


Late-Night Learning

by crushing83



Series: Teen Wolf in Another Reality [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Cryptic Danny Mahealani, Damaged Derek, Damaged Derek Hale, Demisexual Stiles Stilinski, Derek trying to teach Stiles how to be a werewolf, Discussion of Hale history, Discussion of events before the fire, Everybody tries, Gen, I may be kinder to Scott in the future but today is not that day, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Multiple Pov, POV Multiple, Protective Derek, Protective Derek Hale, Protective Stiles, Protective Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall is a Bad Friend, Season 01 AU, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles Stilinski Gets Bitten Instead of Scott McCall, Stiles and Derek are pack, Stiles is less combative than Scott, Stiles learning how to be a werewolf, ace spectrum Stiles Stilinski, asexual spectrum Stiles Stilinski, may become Sterek way down the road, playing fast and loose with the show's mythology, setting the stage for Danny and his family to play a bigger role, werewolf investigations, werewolf lessons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 13:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18639202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: Stiles has to figure out a way to keep his friends safe when they're faced with a dangerous, Monster Mayhem situation. In a series of flashbacks, John learns about Derek and Stiles and the secrets they've been keeping from him."What the hell?" Stiles asked. "Scottie, if you're staging an intervention, you get points for creative casting but you lose a few for the time and place."Scott frowned. "What are you talking about? You texted me!""And me," Danny said."And us," Boyd added, gesturing between himself and Erica."No, I didn't," Stiles insisted. "I just got back from a run. I showered, and your message to me was on my phone. You told me to come here!"





	Late-Night Learning

**Author's Note:**

> This instalment nearly broke my brain. I hope you give it a try---and you find something in it to enjoy!

Keys still in his hand, Stiles looked at the broken door to the school and hesitated. 

When Scott had texted him--- _Need to talk. Meet at school? 9?_ \---it had been so strange (and so well-punctuated) a request that Stiles' curiosity had motivated him to go. But, as he looked at the door, he realized he hadn't thought through his actions (or reactions). 

Scott wouldn't have broken the door. He couldn't have broken the door. He was strong, but not as strong as Jackson; even Jackson would have had to work very hard to do that much damage to school property. Someone else must have opened the door---by ripping it off of its hinges.

Before Stiles walked into the school, he sent a text of his own: _I thought Scott texted me. But. Something bad is happening at the school. Mayhem?!_

He hoped Derek took his phone when he went to run in the woods. 

As soon as he was inside the darkened corridor, Stiles tried to consciously open his senses. It didn't always work; it didn't seem to be working then. He could smell metal and hear heartbeats. Apart from those clues, he had no idea what he would find when he walked deeper into the school.

He rounded a corner, moving from the English classrooms to the Math Department, and he saw… 

Scott, Allison, Erica, Boyd, and Danny were grouped together. 

Oh, and Jackson and Lydia were leaning against a wall of lockers, hidden by the shadows.

"What the hell?" Stiles asked. "Scottie, if you're staging an intervention, you get points for creative casting but you lose a few for the time and place."

Scott frowned. "What are you talking about? You texted me!"

"And me," Danny said. 

"And us," Boyd added, gesturing between himself and Erica. 

"No, I didn't," Stiles insisted. "I just got back from a run. I showered, and your message to me was on my phone. You told me to come here!"

Stiles winced as four phones were held up, their too-bright screens showing the messages Stiles apparently sent to them. He held up his own, showing them Scott's alleged message to him. 

"So, it's a weird prank then," Lydia said. "Let's go. This is so lame." 

Stiles turned to her and Jackson. "Why on earth would you two show up if someone texted you, pretending to be me?"

"Jackson cares about his teammates, like a winning captain should," she said after a sniff. "And now that I'm here, I'm staying for Allison."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Right. And, Danny, I can almost understand, we're chem lab partners this week, but---"

He stopped talking when he felt the vibration through the floor. He looked around wildly, wondering why he could feel Derek's roar… and then he realised it wasn't Derek's roar. He knew Derek's voice, as a human and as a werewolf, and that wasn't it. 

Danny's eyes grew wide and he, too, looked around. 

"I think we should leave," Stiles said. 

"I don't think that's an option," Danny said, his voice almost a whisper. "We need to go somewhere safe. Now."

"Stiles? What's going on?" Erica asked. 

He shook his head. "I don't know. Not exactly. I swear I have nothing to do with gathering you all here, but I promise I'll do everything to make sure we get out of here in one piece." 

"Dramatic much?" Lydia commented. 

Stiles looked down at his phone. There were no messages from Derek, so he sent another one--- _I am not kidding. MM lured us all here. The school. FML._ \---and then pocketed the device as he looked around at everyone and their surroundings. 

"Closest room with a door that locks and the least amount of windows?" he asked the group. 

Boyd pointed towards one of the sets of stairs. "The art room," he suggested. 

"Pre-Cal," Scott said. He shrugged when people stared at him. "What? It's closer." 

Stiles shared a look with Danny. They weren't close, they were barely classmates, but Danny _definitely_ knew something and didn't seem to be a hunter, so Stiles was counting him as an ally. 

"Let's split the difference and go to the music room," Danny suggested. 

A shout and a growl from the direction of the locker rooms and gym made them all flinch. 

Allison looked around, her eyes wide. "What the---"

"Not the time. Let's move!" Stiles interrupted, grabbing Erica's hand and pulling her in the direction of the stairs that would take them to where the band rehearsed. 

With Erica moving with Stiles, Boyd followed. Danny's compliance meant Jackson and Lydia joined the group, and with no one staying behind and explaining anything, Scott and Allison had no choice but to follow. Stiles didn't stop moving until they were all in the right room, with the doors all closed and their knobs all locked. 

Deadbolts would be better, but Stiles never got around to stealing and copying the janitor's keys like he'd dreamed of doing. 

Erica was the first to approach Stiles. Her eyes were wide and her skin was pale; Stiles prayed it was concern and not an oncoming seizure that made her look close to puking. The last thing he wanted for her was an audience that had Jackson and Lydia in its ranks while she lost control of her body. The fact that Monster Mayhem was too close for comfort didn't help matters, either. 

"Stiles? You swear you didn't text us?" 

He nodded. "I swear on… on my Dad. I didn't." 

She studied him, her wide eyes narrowing. She must have seen something in which she could believe, because she nodded and gestured behind Stiles. 

"Okay. Then… what the hell is going on?" she asked.

Stiles frowned. He had no idea how he could explain their current situation.

#####

_John leaned forward. "I am not joking around here, boys. You will tell me the truth---all of it---tonight."_

 _When Derek lifted his head, he met Stiles' eyes. He nodded. Stiles, in contrast, closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. He looked like he was preparing for battle---and John did not understand why the truth should be so hard to share._

_"I… okay," Stiles said. His shoulders slumped, for a moment, and then he seemed to steel himself; his posture shifted into something stiffer. He met John's eyes and said, "Werewolves are real."_

_John looked from Stiles to Derek and back to Stiles. Then, he snorted._

_Werewolves?_ Werewolves?! _Stiles thought he would believe that?_

_"The truth. Now."_

_Stiles looked at Derek. They seemed to be having a sort of mostly-silent conversation, where the only words they shared were half-formed sentences---like "Do you?" and "Better control" and "You don't---" and "Thanks"---that made next to no sense to John. When they turned their attention back to John, he noticed that Stiles looked so worried that he looked nauseated and Derek was scowling._

_"Dad, promise me you aren't going to freak out."_

_"Stiles, whatever this is… I won't freak out," John promised. "I know werewolves aren't real. Just tell me---"_

_Before he could finish his sentence, Derek's face_ transformed _into… into..._

_John was reaching for his gun---and crying out because it wasn't at his hip but in his safe---before he was aware of his actions._

_"Dad, Dad, you're okay. You're safe. We're not going to hurt you," Stiles said, as he moved around the table and stood between Derek and John. Derek was still sitting, so Stiles blocked his fangs and ears and_ glowing _blue eyes, but John was on his feet---and he had no idea when he'd pushed himself up and away from the table. Stiles' hands were warm weights on his arms; he was still talking, his words slowly pushing through John's panic. "I promise, Dad. You're safe. You're pack. We aren't going to hurt you."_

_"Werewolves are real?" John asked._

_Stiles nodded. "I found out after the night Laura's remains were found in the woods," he said._

_John glanced at Derek, catching a glimpse of his monstrous face before all signs that Derek was something other than human melted away, and then back at his son. "Did Derek attack you? Is that how you found out?" he asked._

_"No, no, Derek helps me," Stiles insisted. "The werewolf that attacked Laura went after me, because I went out trying to be a detective… and Derek's helping. He's teaching me control. And we're trying to figure out who the… the bad guy is so we can stop them from hurting more people."_

_"You were attacked?" John asked._

_Stiles nodded. "Monster Mayhem---that's what we've been calling the other---"_

_"As ridiculous as the name is," Derek muttered._

_"Hush, you. Unless you have a better name… just hush up," Stiles said, sparing Derek a smirk before softening his expression and turning back to John. "Anyway. The bad werewolf bit me. That night you went out with the deputies, combing the woods. And I'm all healed up, so you don't need to worry---"_

_"Does a bite from a werewolf---oh my god, I can't believe I'm saying this---"_

_"Turn you into a werewolf?" Stiles interjected. He shrugged. "If the werewolf is an alpha, which is what Monster Mayhem became, yes. A bite from a beta or non-alpha would just hurt and bleed."_

_John's heart clenched in his chest. "So… you're…"_

_"A werewolf."_

_John stumbled into his chair. Stiles took a couple steps back, his eyes wide and his face pale, and he might have continued moving out of the room if Derek hadn't put his hand on Stiles' back. He wanted to keep panicking, but one look into Stiles' face and seeing all the signs of fear he was displaying kept John from focusing on his own stress. After standing up again, John reached out for his son._

_"Stiles, c'm'ere," he insisted. "I'm just… processing. It's a shock. But you're my kid, and I love you, no matter what."_

_"Promise?" Stiles asked, his voice so quiet and small that John felt the urge to hug him even more strongly._

_"I promise. Always."_

_Stiles launched himself at John without any warning. They weren't big huggers, usually opting for easier shoulder pats of affection, but John needed to hug his son and it felt like Stiles needed to hug his father. John was not complaining. He wrapped his arms around Stiles' too-skinny body and squeezed as strongly as he could. He might be a werewolf, but he still felt like his child._

_"I love you," John whispered._

_"Me, too, Dad," Stiles whispered back._

_John eased back out of the hug, spying a mixture of emotions that resembled relief and approval on Derek's face, and he smiled at Stiles. He patted Stiles' cheek and asked, "So you got a face like Derek's got?"_

_"Uh… sort of," Stiles said._

_"Well, let's see it, kid," John insisted._

_Stiles' eyes widened. "Are you sure?"_

_"Need to make it real," John said, nodding._

_Stiles sucked in a deep breath. Instead of changing into anything not-human, though, he started speaking. "Dad, if you… I mean, if you hate it, as far as I know, there's no cure or---" he broke off and coughed. "It would kill me if---"_

_"I'm not going to run or be angry or disappointed," John interrupted, keeping his voice even and calm. "I am shocked. Obviously. But, you're always going to be my son---longer teeth and more facial hair isn't going to change that."_

_"Not that much extra facial hair," Derek teased._

_"Well, we can't all be so hirsute and manly," Stiles shot back._

_John bit back a laugh. He had a feeling there was a lot to the friendship between Stiles and Derek he'd missed because he hadn't been aware of everything going on in their lives. All of his worries aside, he was looking forward to getting to know them both with much more honesty between them all._

_"Show him your wolf pup face," Derek said, only a hint of humour still in his voice. "You've got enough control for that."_

_Stiles nodded. He closed his eyes and…_ growled _. It wasn't a loud sound, more like vibrations John could feel because he was in close proximity to his son; it was the only sign that Stiles was different until his face changed into something that more closely resembled the face Derek had shown him. Stiles' brow wasn't as prominent, and he wasn't sprouting as much hair or fur, but he had fangs and claws and glowing yellow eyes._

_"Why are your eyes yellow?" John asked._

_"Different life experiences," Stiles said. His voice and words were distorted by his fangs; if John hadn't been dealing with the fact that werewolves were real and his son was one of them, he might have focused more on how adorable Stiles' little lisp was. "And it's not my story to---"_

_"Guilt," Derek interjected. "My actions were directly responsible for someone's death---"_

_"That's not true!" Stiles exclaimed. "You didn't bite her!"_

_"It's my fault Paige was bitten in the first place!"_

_"No, it was Peter's fault! Plus! You didn't know the bite wouldn't take!"_

_John listened to them as they continued to argue, about something that sounded vaguely familiar, twigging at old, nearly-forgotten memories, and he tried to make sense of their words. Stiles made it sound like a bite from a… an alpha could kill a person if it didn't change them?_

_Stiles could have died? Stiles could have been another mysterious animal attack?_

_After rubbing a hand over his face, John settled down in his chair. The movement seemed to have caught Stiles' attention; they stopped arguing and Stiles turned to face John._

_"Dad?"_

_"Could you have died? From being bitten?"_

_"Maybe?" Stiles replied. "It either turns or kills you. Usually."_

_"When the alpha is reasonable, the bite is offered to a particular person with full disclosure. It's never random or without reason," Derek explained. "Accidents can happen, but we're taught it's a gift---and one that not everyone wants. We had human family who only wanted it if they were sick or injured."_

_"Your pack… your family?" John asked._

_Derek nodded. "Yes, sir. My mother was the alpha."_

_John reconciled that information with what he knew of Talia Hale from his own observations and encounters with her. She'd always been very… calm. She'd helped with the community, usually by donating money and resources to important causes. She'd seemed strong, internally, having a backbone that most people would never understand. And, yes, she had seemed a little weird---a little different from the rest of the townspeople---but John could assume that had to do with her werewolf nature more than any other personality quirks._

_"Do I have to be bitten now that I know or---"_

_"No! Absolutely not," Derek interrupted. "Humans were valued in our pack. They remind us we're more than our instincts. They can do the things that we can't, too, like handle mountain ash or wolfsbane. They're family."_

_John nodded. "Does everyone share that view?"_

_"Some are more elitist or exclusionist, yeah," Derek admitted. "But isn't that the same with people?"_

_Derek made a good point. John had a feeling that werewolves dealt with their issues in bloodier ways, but he couldn't fault their narrow-mindedness without faulting humans for the same thing._

_John nodded. Reality had just completely changed on him, he had no idea how he could be a part of the new world that claimed his son, and he still wasn't completely sure everything he'd seen wasn't some sort of elaborate practical joke. But, he had to move forward, so he nodded._

_"All right," he said. "Tell me everything I need to know."_

#####

"I'll tell you what's going on," Scott snarled. "You and Derek decided to prank me! Get me back for---"

Stiles was angry, because _of course, it's Derek's fault_ , but the idea that their predicament was a prank that Derek cooked up was so ridiculous that Stiles let out a bark of laughter. 

"Oh my god, Scott. You are an idiot. Someone hacked or cloned my phone, lured a group of teenagers to a school that was broken into by someone probably on PCP, judging by that door we all walked through, and it sounds like a wild animal is causing problems somewhere in the building, and you think this is a prank on you?" 

Stiles turned away from everyone. He couldn't believe he used the _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ PCP cover story. He didn't want the others to see him roll his eyes at himself. 

"Who's Derek?" Allison asked. 

"Derek Hale," Scott spat. "He's the guy who ki---"

"He did not!" Stiles hissed, turning around. "He got me out of a jam, we hung out a little, and you went round-the-bend crazy about him. Heaven forbid I spend time with someone you don't approve of." 

"He's not a good guy!" Scott exclaimed.

"You're only saying that because I wasn't available to hang out when you remembered I exist!"

"As fascinating as this is, I say we leave now," Lydia said. 

Danny shook his head. "No, not yet," he whispered. He looked at Stiles. "Is there someone you can call?" 

"Seriously?" Stiles asked. "You think I have the Winchesters on speed dial? Buffy and Faith, too?"

Despite their situation, Danny cracked a smile. 

"You're not saying it's vampires out there, are you?" Boyd asked. "Because that---"

"Would be crazy, yes," Stiles interrupted. "Points to you for getting those references, though."

"Call the rent-a-cops," Jackson suggested. 

The idea of John---or any of his deputies---facing down Monster Mayhem made Stiles' blood run cold. The insult didn't even really register. He shook his head; Danny even started to protest, as if he knew exactly what Stiles was thinking, but Jackson reached for his phone and started dialing. 

Stiles knocked it out of his hand. "No!" he exclaimed. 

When the phone clattered to the ground, the noise it made was louder than the protests that rose up from the group around him. Stiles closed his eyes and stepped back from them; he tried to listen, to gain a sense of where the rogue alpha was located, but it was too hard to control his senses with everything happening all around him. 

Danny---his smell, his heartbeat---approached. His hand cupped under Stiles's elbow as he guided him towards the back of the room. Jackson jeered, as if he thought Danny was about to force Stiles to do what the majority of the room wanted to do. 

Not for the first time, Danny surprised Stiles by saying the thing Stiles never predicted he'd say. 

"Take a deep breath and calm down," Danny whispered. He wasn't smiling, but his facial features were relaxed; he looked like he wasn't living through an actual horror movie, and Stiles found that to be amazing. "You are our best chance of getting out of here." 

Stiles bit back a whine. Nothing in his training with Derek had prepared him for being trapped in the music room with a bunch of his classmates while Monster Mayhem prowled around the building. But, Danny was right. No one else stood a chance at distracting---

Distracting Monster Mayhem was probably Stiles' only chance at getting the others out of there. 

Why did they all come when he allegedly texted them? Why could they have remembered Stiles wasn't so important? 

And how did Danny know?!

As soon as they were safe, Stiles was going to drag Danny somewhere and demand answers. 

He inhaled slowly, and exhaled just as slowly. He needed a plan. 

Just as he was thinking he could sneak out through the door at the back of the room, a multitude of things happened at once.

A large body slammed against the back door. 

Allison, Lydia, and Scott screamed. 

Boyd gasped. 

Jackson collapsed. 

Monster Mayhem _roared._

#####

_After pulling another slice of pizza from the box, Stiles started talking. He explained in detail how he'd gone looking for Laura Hale's remains and ended up getting bitten by the rogue alpha for his troubles. He talked about how the bite healed overnight, how his senses started going haywire, and how he woke up once in the woods with the alpha nearby. John tried to respond, but no words he could share came to mind._

_"I caught up to him when he was running out of the woods," Derek explained when Stiles took a breath. "I'd been tracking him since that first night. At first, I just wanted to figure out who killed Laura, but… Stiles needs help. And I couldn't let a new wolf… I mean, there are hunters, and…"_

_"Don't lie, you knew I'd be an awesome packmate," Stiles mumbled around a bite of pizza. "Brains to match your brawn, remember?"_

_"We're stronger in packs," Derek said, after an amused snort and roll of his eyes. "We aren't a traditional pack because an alpha is supposed to strengthen us, hold and distribute the power of the pack, but---"_

_"This alpha isn't all there," John said._

_Derek nodded. "They aren't acting the way an alpha should act. This isn't about protecting their pack. This is about selfish power and revenge."_

_"How so?"_

_"Killing Laura… one of the ways a werewolf gets the alpha power is by killing an alpha," Derek explained. "Laura was the oldest of my siblings; she was trained to be alpha. She inherited her power when Mom died in the fire. That power transferred to her killer. So, when he bit Stiles, he turned Stiles instead of killing him."_

_"Are there other ways to get this power?" John asked._

_"Some think alpha power can be developed, if a person shows a certain level of strength," Derek replied. "They're called 'true alphas,' but I don't know if they're any better or worse than the usual kind of alpha."_

_John nodded. He liked the idea of not having to kill anyone to gain strength, but the "true alpha" also sounded like someone plucked from the mailroom to be named chief executive officer, and John didn't know how well that would work. On the other hand, he didn't like how their current situation was working either._

_"What will happen when you catch up with this guy, or when the alpha catches up to the both of you?" John asked._

_"They bit Stiles, they consider Stiles pack," Derek replied. "So far, Stiles has proven resistant to the idea of being in their pack---"_

_"Darn tootin'," Stiles interjected._

_"---but eventually, the alpha will try to bring Stiles under their control," Derek continued._

_"That's worrying," John said. He gestured towards Derek. "What about you?"_

_"I don't know. I'm strong, so they might think I'm useful… but, I really don't know. They might see me as a threat," Derek said._

_"How will they try to bring Stiles into their pack?" John asked._

_"Some sort of rite of passage," Derek said. "With my family, it was hunting a deer when we gained control, but this werewolf has been going after… people."_

_That was a concern---and John was certainly going to revisit that topic when his head wasn't completely jam-packed with questions about everything relating to werewolves and their current situation---but Derek's mentioning of the alpha's victims piqued his overloaded attention and his focus veered towards the attacks. With the information that it wasn't an actual animal, John's cop instincts were also whirring._

_"Why those people?" he asked._

_"We don't know for sure," Stiles replied._

_John looked at him. "What do you know?"_

_"Aside from Laura… it's hard to say," Stiles said. "The bus driver? He was an arson investigator once upon a time. The guy at the video store… set things on fire. And they tried going after Kate, so."_

_"Revenge?"_

_"Or they just like going after bad people," Derek said. "There's nothing that connects this werewolf to the fire. Peter was the only one who got out, and he's---"_

_"I know, but I don't think we can clear him off the list," Stiles cut in, his tone soft but firm._

_"And what? He's zombie-walking through the woods?" Derek asked._

_"What if it's an act?"_

_"Why would he kill his niece?" Derek demanded. "That makes no sense, Stiles!"_

_Before Stiles could defend his perspective, John raised his hands. "All right, all right, enough," he said. "Take me through this, piece by piece. I'm still… new at the werewolf thing."_

_"Where should we start?" Derek asked._

_"Let's go back to before the fire," John suggested. "Explain it to me like I'm dumb---which I am until I catch up---and give me all the details you can."_

_"We might be here for a while," Derek said._

_John smiled. "Yeah, but the important things take time," he said. "Tell me about your family? Your pack? I'd like to hear about them, if you don't mind."_

_In response to John's prompting, Derek smiled and nodded. John broke eye contact with Derek and reached for another piece of pizza; Stiles wasn't lecturing him about eating healthily and John fully intended to gorge himself on pizza while he could._

#####

Stiles came to his senses, curled up in a ball on the floor. Someone's hands were on him; the fingers were softer and more delicate than Danny's had been. He groaned and looked up into Erica's face.

"No one saw you fall after Jackson fainted," she murmured. "I didn't want you to be alone." 

"Thanks," Stiles whispered. 

She nodded. "I know what it's like," she said after a little shrug. "I hate coming out of a seizure without a friendly face nearby."

On an impulse, Stiles sat up and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. The hug was part apology and part thanksgiving; she accepted it and returned it as if she understood. 

He hoped she understood. They'd been spending more time together and he genuinely considered her a friend. He _hated_ that she'd been dragged into his nightmarish situation. He hated that Scott had been, too. Hell, he hated that they'd all been dragged into the school under false pretenses, but he had a soft spot for Erica. She'd shown him a lot of kindness when he'd been going through difficulties. She never pushed him for more than he could give her. She earned that soft spot where his fuzzy feelings lived. 

They pulled apart in time to see Danny and Boyd help Jackson to his feet. He wavered; Danny braced him until he was able to stand on his own. 

"I'm fine," Jackson insisted. "Like, seriously, I'm okay."

"That didn't look okay at all," Allison said. 

Scott put his hand on Jackson's shoulder, examining his neck. "What is that?" Scott asked. "You look like you got---"

"I said I'm fine," Jackson growled. 

"It's been there since the night we were attacked," Lydia said. "I assume it was the mountain lion, but he won't tell me---"

"As if you actually care," Jackson shot back at her. 

Lydia looked hurt. She opened her mouth to say something, but Danny took her hand and squeezed it. She ended up sighing---loudly---and moving away from Jackson to stand at Allison's side. 

After Allison put her free arm around Lydia's shoulders, she said, "All right. Can somebody please explain to me what's going on, because I'm freaking out here. And I would like to know why. Scott?"

"Like I told you," Scott said. "I'm sure this is Derek. Everything bad that's been happening is Derek Hale's fault." 

Stiles snorted. "Wrong," he muttered. 

"But, the mountain lio---"

Scott cut off Lydia's protest. "No, Derek killed them."

"All of them?" Allison asked. 

"Yeah, starting with his own sister," Scott said, nodding enthusiastically. 

"The bus driver?" she asked. 

Scott's dumbass head was still nodding. "And the guy in the video store---it's been Derek the whole time," he said. "He lured us here and he's in here with us. He's crazy. And if we don't get out now, he's going to kill us, too."

"It's not your friend, is it?" Erica asked, her voice low. 

Stiles shook his head. "No, it's not."

"All right. What do we do?" 

"Well, first I'm going to ask myself what would Batman do in this situation," Stiles replied. "Then, I'm going to realise we do not have the same skill sets, and I am going to do something dumb like try to get the bad guy's attention and lure him away so you guys can escape."

"Stiles…" 

He shook his head. "This is my fault," he whispered. "They're after me. I am so sorry you and the others are here." 

Boyd cast a large shadow as he approached them. "Not your fault," he said. "Whoever the person is---"

"It's Derek! I told you!" Scott snapped. 

Stiles bit back his growl as he stood up and squared his shoulders. "No, it is not, you… you dumbass!" he hissed. "You have no idea what's going on! But, let me make this perfectly clear. It. Is. Not. Derek. I don't care what you think, because I know." 

"Then who is it?" Allison asked. 

"I have no idea," Stiles said. "But I know it's not Derek."

Scott snorted. Stiles steeled himself to argue, but Jackson said, "Fine. Whatever. Call the cops. Let them deal with this." 

"No," Stiles said, without hesitation. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean no. You wanna hear it in spanish? _No,"_ he replied. 

_Kill them._

The thought wasn't his, but it was in his head. It was rough and angry and so hungry---and he had no idea why or how he knew those things about the voice. He turned away from the group, looking around the room for some sign of the supernatural; when he couldn't find anything to explain why he'd heard that demand, he looked back at the group. 

Lydia sighed. "I'm calling," she declared, slipped away from Allison with her phone already at her ear. 

"No, Lydia, would you just hold on a sec---"

"Yes, we're at Beacon Hills High School," Lydia said into the device. "We're trapped, and we need you to---"

_"Nice try, but we were already warned that you kids were planning prank calls about a break-in tonight,"_ Stiles heard Tara tell Lydia. _"You call again and we'll trace the call and arrest you. We have enough to do without responding to pranks."_

Whoever Monster Mayhem was, they'd certainly covered their bases. 

"But… but---" Lydia stopped talking and lowered the phone. "She hung up on me."

"The police hung up on you?" Allison asked. 

Lydia nodded. "She said they got a tip warning them that there are gonna be prank calls about a break-in at the high school," she explained. "She said if I called again that they're gonna trace it and have me arrested."

That seemed like good news to Allison. She nodded and gestured towards Lydia's phone. "Okay, then call again," she insisted. 

"No, they won't trace a cell and they'll send a car to your house before they send anyone here," Stiles said, more familiar with the department's resources than any of them.

"What is happening?!" Allison exclaimed. 

Scott came closer and wrapped her up in a hug. "I don't know why Derek's doing thi---"

"It's not Derek! God! What is wrong with you?!" Stiles shouted. 

_Kill them._

Before they could get into an actual fight---and Stiles was sure that was going to happen if Scott didn't stop trying to throw Derek under the bus while Monster Mayhem continued whispering into his head---Danny stepped into the middle of the group. He raised his hands, palms out. 

"We have no idea who it is," he said. "Right now, our priority has to be getting out of here safely. We don't know what's going on, but it doesn't look good. We're in danger and I don't know if the deputies will come to help us." 

"Stiles should call his dad," Jackson said. 

"What? So I can get him killed?" Stiles asked. 

"Him or me? Yeah, I choose me." 

"Jackson, stop," Danny said. "This isn't helping." 

Stiles sighed. He pulled out his phone and looked at it. There were no calls or texts from Derek. He did not want to bring his father into the mess that had become his evening; he did not want to bring Derek into it either, but Derek was far more equipped to handle it. He had to make a call. He knew he needed help. He just didn't want to bring more people to the school. 

If the night ended badly, he needed to talk to John. He needed John to understand that he didn't regret his new life, that he was doing what he had to do to protect the people in his life. 

He dialed John's number. 

"Dad, hey, it's me---" he paused as soon as he realised he'd reached the phone's voicemail instead of his father. "Aaand it's your voicemail. Look, I need you to call me back. Now. Like, right now. There are things I need to say and I won't leave them on your voicemail." 

His phone buzzed. Another call was coming into his phone. "Damn it. We're… we're at the school. Dad, we're at the school, and please don't come alone," he said hurriedly, before ending his call and picking up the incoming call. "Hello? Dad?"

_"It's me. I'm with your dad,"_ Derek said. _"I got your text. Is anyone hurt?"_

Stiles wavered on his feet. In an instant, Boyd and Danny were at his side. 

"No… not yet. But we're trapped in the music room and we---I don't know what to do," he admitted. 

_"You got everyone to safety,"_ Derek reminded him. _"Who's there with you?"_

"Scott, Allison, Erica, Boyd, Danny, Jackson, and Lydia," Stiles replied. "I heard someone yell earlier, maybe a janitor or security guard is in the school? I have no idea." 

_"All right. Now. You have to stay strong. Not physically, but mentally. If this is the rite of passage---"_

"But why?" 

_"Monster Mayhem must consider these people your current pack,"_ Derek explained. _"They want you to be loyal to them, not to your pack. Remember your anchor. Remember what's important! We are coming to help!"_

Stiles couldn't say what he wanted to say---about them staying safe, too, and about the weird message that keeps popping into his mind---without letting everyone know how weird his life had become. He swallowed all of those words down and said, "Yeah. I'll try." 

_"Stay alive,"_ Derek growled before ending the call. 

Stiles looked down at his phone, clutched in his hand, and he felt another wave of bloodthirst wash over his conscious mind. 

Stay alive. Sure, that sounded easy.

#####

_"So your mom was the alpha, and your dad was her right hand man," John said, recapping the information Derek had given him. "Laura was training to be the alpha, because she was the oldest and demonstrating the most natural leadership at an early age. You were a beta---and it's likely you would've been her second if she'd taken over the pack naturally."_

_"More or less, yes," Derek said._

_"And a lot of you lived in that house," John said. "Did your pack have others? People who lived in town?"_

_"Our pack was mostly family," Derek replied. "There were a few who weren't Hales. Everyone lived at the house, though. Mom liked having everyone together. She said she'd grown up in a full house, knowing everyone was safe, and she wanted that safety for us---even when it drove us crazy because there was no privacy."_

_"Everyone lived at the house?" John asked._

_"Everyone. Except for someone that Mom called the… emissary."_

_"Emissary?" Stiles asked. "What's that?"_

_John liked learning something at the same time as Stiles. He'd been feeling_ drastically _behind in all the werewolf business, and seeing that Stiles didn't know something, too, helped ease the anxiety driving him to try to catch up as quickly as possible._

_He just wasn't sure he had much room left in his head for new information._

_"They're a person---human, but sometimes a magic user---who works with a pack," Derek explained. "Usually, they only work with the alpha. They help---with negotiations, or with healing or sickness. With wards and charms, if they have a magic gift. I didn't know who ours was."_

_"Deaton?" Stiles suggested._

_John blinked; he hadn't expected that name to come up in their conversation._

_Derek, though, didn't look all that shocked. If anything, he seemed to accept it as a real possibility._

_"I'd believe that," Derek said. "He said he knew Mom."_

_"And the herbs-y smells, and his… perceptive but cryptic statements," Stiles added._

_Derek nodded. "A strong possibility," he agreed. "What about your classmate that made the comment about Kate?"_

_"Danny? Way too young," Stiles said. "Maybe his parents?"_

_Trying to make sense of what he was hearing, John asked, "Does that mean Doctor Deaton's a good guy?"_

_"Neutral. Maybe," Stiles replied._

_John frowned. "Why?"_

_"Because he knows stuff and he won't tell us," Stiles grumbled as he picked at his current slice of pizza. "And he lied a little bit when we were questioning him tonight."_

_"How do you know he lied?" John asked._

_"We could hear his heart beating," Stiles said._

_John's eyes widened. Werewolves could hear hearts beating in chests without special equipment? Could they hear his heart beating?!_

_"Yes, we can hear yours, too," Derek said. "I'm used to ignoring most of what's around me---"_

_"And I'm learning how to zone out a lot of what I hear and smell," Stiles added. "I'm swinging between overload and hyperfocus a lot of the time, but I'm figuring it out."_

_"Wow."_

_Stiles snorted. "Yeah. Comic books didn't prepare me for any of this."_

_John could only imagine---and he was trying not to, because it was strange to think Stiles had enhanced senses and it was embarrassing to think of all the things Stiles might have heard or smelled and---_

_With a shake of his head, John forced himself to stop that line of thinking._

_"What was Peter to the pack?" John asked._

_If either Derek or Stiles knew why John asked such a different question, no one commented on his deliberate change of subject._

_Derek tapped his fist against the table before speaking. "Mom's brother… a good uncle, most of the time. He could be the pack's antagonist, but mainly, he was Mom's left hand," he explained. "He did a lot of dirty jobs. Spying, gathering information by any means… taking care of problems. Like omegas---lone wolves, drifters without a pack. He knew all the pack secrets."_

_"Was he involved in the whole Argent feud thing?" John asked._

_"Not directly, as far as I know," Derek said. "He may have been spying on them."_

_"Did something start the mess between your two families?" John asked. "I mean, besides the werewolves and hunters thing?"_

_"Dad…"_

_Derek looked at Stiles. "It's okay, Stiles," he said. When he looked back at John, he seemed calm. "A lot of it was that Kate and Chris' father is a monster. Kate came by her evil honestly. Before I met her, one of the Argents' hunters… it was an accident, as far as I know. A beta from another pack killed the hunter. So, the Argents' group chased him into our territory. They killed him before any peace could be brokered."_

_John winced. "What happened?"_

_"The Argent Clan essentially declared war on werewolves," Derek replied. "Mom… Mom was well-respected. There aren't a lot of werewolves left in the world who can turn into wolves---"_

_"Your mom could turn into a wolf?!" Stiles exclaimed. "Ohmigod! That is so cool! Can anyone learn how to do it? Can you?"_

_"Mom and Laura could," Derek said. "Cora---my younger sister---she could when she was a baby, but she lost the ability when she grew up a bit." He shrugged and reached for the bottle of juice in the middle of the table. "I've never been able to do it," he added. "There's a process. Jeremy tried to explain it to me---"_

_"He can do it?" Stiles asked._

_At the same time, John asked, "Who's Jeremy?"_

_Derek snorted. "Yes, he can. His whole pack can," he said. He looked at John. "Jeremy is the alpha who took me and Laura in after the fire. He kept us safe."_

_While John was glad Derek and Laura hadn't been on their own, he wondered how safe they'd really been. It was clear, from talking with Derek, that he still had lots of wounds that hadn't healed. He didn't fault Jeremy---he didn't know the guy---and he knew Derek was carrying a lot of pain and guilt, but he wondered how much of his time away had been about healing and how much of it had been about hiding._

_"So it's a rare ability?" Stiles asked._

_Derek nodded. "Really rare. So, because of that, a lot of other alphas on this coast… they deferred to her, in difficult situations," he said. "After the Argents made an example of the beta, his alpha and other alphas descended on Beacon Hills to seek her council. To try to decide if they would fight back or if they would try to negotiate peace."_

_Even though he was fairly certain the response would be gruesome, John still asked: "How did they make an example of the… beta?"_

_"They shot him in the neck with an arrow, strung him up in the trees, and sliced his body in half," Derek said, before he started pouring himself another drink. He didn't seem aware of the way John was staring at him, affected by the casual way he delivered that news, and he didn't seem aware of the way Stiles was looking at him with sadness in his eyes._

_"He was a message to the rest of us," Derek added, before sipping from his refilled glass._

_"Jesus," John breathed._

_Something about that, about facing down a man who was so upset about his family member---his packmate, John realised---being killed in that way stuck out in his memory. He remembered being a deputy charged with the investigation; he remembered how it rankled that he'd never figured out who had hurt that young man._

_"I was a deputy when that happened," he said. "I got called to the hospital because a… a… very tall, strong man was scaring the staff there. He was threatening everyone, trying to get the kid's body. He got in my face, shouting about family, but---"_

_"That was the alpha, probably," Derek said. "Good alphas are responsible for the pack---at all times. In life, in death. They handle trouble more than they get to revel in better times."_

_"Someone like that guy is after my son?" John asked._

_Derek held his glass up in what appeared to be agreement or confirmation. John sagged in his chair. Every instinct in his head and heart was telling him to take Stiles and flee Beacon Hills. He didn't know what they could do or how they would survive, and he didn't know if he could be enough_ pack _for Stiles, but the idea of leaving Stiles up to the mercy of a monster who was killing people… it worried him too much to sit idle over his territory, complacent, waiting for the next body to drop. He wanted to do something---and if that something should be running, he would do it without hesitation._

_But, werewolves weren't his only concern. There were hunters in his community and they could be looking to make an example out of Stiles. There could be hunters anywhere, just like there could be werewolves anywhere, and John hated the idea that Stiles would always be looking over his shoulder._

_When the thought_ forewarned is forearmed _popped into his mind, John rubbed his hands over his face and leaned on the table. He looked from Stiles to Derek as he inhaled a deep breath._

_"What do I need to know?" he asked. "About the hunters."_

_"They're supposed to have a code. They're only supposed to hunt werewolves who go bad, but if one of theirs dies in the process, they will kill a whole pack if they can," Derek said. "Some are low-tech, low-resources, but larger hunting families have money and connections at their disposal."_

_"Like the Argents?"_

_Derek's nod was slow and sure. "They have resources and no scruples about taking the low road," he said._

_"Is that what Kate did?" John asked, his voice quiet._

_"The fire was Kate… enjoying her work," Derek said, his eyes on his plate. "Chris was the sensible one, back then. As sensible as hunters can be, anyway. But, Kate…"_

_"Is not sensible, in any sense of the word," Stiles muttered._

_John frowned and shook his head. "How is any of this acceptable? There were children in that house!" he exclaimed. "Stiles is a child. You… hell, you're still a child in my eyes, Derek! They have children, themselves, and they see nothing wrong with slaughtering children and… and… families!"_

_"It's acceptable because they think they are the lawmakers," Derek said._

_"But---"_

_"I know. Packs police themselves. It's bad for us, for balance, for safety, if we let omegas---outsiders---and other supernatural beings cause trouble," Derek interrupted. "My mother did everything she could to keep the territory safe. But, hunters, they see us as monsters that need to be wiped out. They try to claim they stick to a code, but… they're more likely to kill any werewolf they meet, no matter how old they are or what they haven't done."_

_"How do we keep the two of you safe?" John asked._

_"We need to deal with Monster Mayhem," Stiles said. "I know it goes against everything in your cop code, but you can't keep them in jail. Plus---"_

_"Claiming they're a werewolf won't look too good for re-election," Derek interjected._

_John snorted. "No, I can't imagine it would."_

_"We either run them out of the territory, somehow, and figure out a way to keep them from ever coming back---"_

_"Which doesn't help any other territory they run into," Stiles muttered._

_Derek paused and nodded. "True. The other solution is… I have to kill them before the hunters do," he said._

_Not liking the sound of that---of a young man already plagued with grief and death and trauma having to do something so awful---John frowned. "Derek, no," he said. "Murder isn't the answer."_

_"If the hunters kill them, my sister's---my family's---alpha power will be lost," Derek said. "If Stiles kills him, he will be saddled with additional power before he's ready. I also don't want Stiles to ever know what it's like. To do that. I am the only choice."_

_Derek's words resonated in John's mind as being based in experience. Derek had killed someone. John had no idea if it had been an act of self-defense or an accident, and he had no way of knowing until Derek explained it to him._

_"It's not what you think, Dad," Stiles said._

_"How do you know what I'm thinking?" John asked._

_"It was a mercy," Stiles said. "She'd been bitten by an alpha---not Talia---and she was dying. Dying, Dad. Slowly and painfully. She asked him to do it."_

_John sighed and rubbed a hand over his face again. He had a feeling he would sighing a lot in the next few days and weeks, as he adjusted to Stiles' new life and to the truth of the situation he and Derek were facing._

_"Yeah. Okay. I'm going to need information later. I want to know how many unresolved animal attacks are do to with supernatural goings-on," he said. He gestured to Derek and Stiles. "But, priorities. How do we keep you guys safe right now?_

_"The Argents can't know Derek's living here," Stiles said. "I mean, it's not a secret, clearly, but we've been careful."_

_"You should be careful, too, sir," Derek said. "I don't know if they have anyone in your department on the payroll, but it wouldn't be unusual for them to do that."_

_"My deputies wouldn't---"_

_"They might not. Ever," Derek agreed, his tone calm and quiet. "But, the hunters might befriend one of them, ask them to throw any tips of strange occurrences their way, for a reward."_

_John sighed. As much as he hated it, he knew Derek was speaking of possible courses of action. Half of his department had part-time or freelance jobs, too. He knew a lot of them provide security for bars and other public gatherings; but he also knew some of them hunt, recreationally, and he could picture them offering up information about strange animal behaviour if it meant a little extra cash. Animal behaviour wasn't confidential information about Beacon Hills' citizenry. What harm could it do?_

_"Yeah. Okay. What else?"_

_"We need to get you some mountain ash and wolfsbane," Derek said. "I don't know how to put the wolfsbane in bullets. Deaton may know. He may tell you if you claim it's only for protection."_

_What's mountain ash?" John asked._

_"Sorbus aucuparia, or the rowan tree," Stiles said. "The wood is ground up---maybe burned or dried---and it can be used to pour barriers. It can also be used to form barriers in its solid form. Deaton's vet clinic is lined with the stuff."_

_"What about silver?"_

_"Myth. Started when the Argent family became one of the most powerful hunter families in the world," Derek said. "Argent is French for 'silver.'"_

_"Ah. Well. I can't decide if they should be proud or disappointed so many movies have gotten it so wrong over the years," John commented._

#####

When Monster Mayhem roared again, the flashes of red flesh and burning anger were almost too strong to ignore. Stiles held in his groan as best as he could; he knew some of it slipped out under the sounds of Lydia and Allison voicing their fear and of Jackson expressing his discomfort.

"Stiles," Danny said, approaching him. "I need to talk to you." 

"Yeah," he muttered. 

They moved away from the rest of the group. Danny took him behind the piano, his hand gently guiding him, and then he eased his backpack off his shoulders. 

"I have mountain ash," he said. 

Stiles blinked. "Seriously?"

"It's Beacon Hills," Danny said with a casual shrug. "Always a good idea to carry some." 

While Stiles agreed with that advice, even as a newly-turned werewolf, he was left wondering how secret werewolves really were. He wanted to pull Danny into another room and ask all the questions that were forming in his brain; he knew the school, at that time, was not the place for any conversation about the existence of the supernatural. He inhaled sharply, nodded, and tried to figure out how to work the possession of mountain ash into his plan. 

Danny was a couple steps ahead of him, though, and he seemed to have a better grasp of the situation than Stiles did. 

"I can use it to block the doors---for all of us---or I can make a circle around you," Danny said. 

Stiles wanted to ask _did someone announce my werewolfiness in the paper?_ but he managed to keep his mouth shut and actually think about what Danny was offering. 

He looked up at the ceiling. It was tiled with those foam squares that could be pushed up to get at the wiring and light fixtures. If he could climb up there, he could probably get out of the room. If he could get out of the room, he could lure Monster Mayhem away from the group and they could be safe inside barriers of mountain ash. 

It would be a bitch to explain, later, but it would keep them safe---and that was most important. 

"I'm going to get out of here," Stiles said, his voice quiet and firm. "Put that across the doors. That's how it works, right?" 

"And when they ask why?"

"You're superstitious? I'm superstitious?" Stiles suggested. 

Danny snorted. "How about I just try not to get caught," he said. 

"That works, too," Stiles agreed. 

As he pointed up to the ceiling, Danny asked, "You need a boost?"

Stiles knew he could probably jump that high---he'd cleared fences higher than the ceiling, even if he didn't always stick the landing---but he needed to move a tile to clear the path and he really wanted to keep his abilities a secret from as many people as he could. So, he grinned and moved a chair underneath one of the tiles closer to the wall. Danny chuckled quietly and followed him; he steadied the chair as Stiles hopped onto it. 

"What are you doing?" Erica asked as she moved away from Boyd and the others. 

"I'm looking for a way out of here," Stiles said. 

"For all of us?" Allison asked. 

After pushing one of the tiles out of the way, Stiles looked down at everyone. They were moving towards him, congregating around the chair, and they were looking at him with everything from curiosity to hope on his face. He hopped down off of the chair and made a point to meet all their eyes. 

"I have no idea who's out there, but they're not friendly," Stiles said. "I'm also pretty sure this has something to do with me. Maybe it's revenge for something my dad did… a case or arrest or something. Who knows. But it looks like I'm the target. I can't let you guys get hurt. Not for me, not if there's anything I can do to help." 

"What do you need?" Boyd asked. 

"Stay in this room, with the doors locked?" Stiles suggested. "I know it's crazy. But, Dad's on his way with reinforcements. If I can lure this bad guy away from you, I can buy time for them to get you out." 

"That is crazy," Scott said. "Stay here, where it's safe." 

Stiles shook his head. "Those doors won't take many more hits. Especially if this person ripped the outer door off its hinges." 

"But---"

Even though he was angry at Scott, for choosing Allison and for remaining convinced Derek was a bad guy, Stiles still loved him. Scott was his best friend, or---at least---he had been for years. That love couldn't be washed away completely; even if their friendship never recovered from Stiles' change and Scott's love for the hunters' daughter. 

Stiles took a step towards Scott and put his hands on Scott's arms. "This is what I have to do," Stiles said. "I know it doesn't make any sense. But. Whatever this is, it wouldn't be happening if it weren't for me. It feels like you're all here and it's my fault." 

Scott swallowed hard, like he had a lump trapped in his throat. "Stiles, what if Derek hurts you?" he asked. 

"It's not Derek," Stiles said, barely keeping the growl out of his voice. "I need you to get that through your thick skull." 

The scent of burning---or Scott's temper---hit him, swiftly and powerfully. 

"Scott, please. If you…" Stiles whispered until he couldn't anymore. It was his turn to swallow hard. He swallowed back his protests; he knew they would fall on deaf ears. "Look, just promise me you're going to stay in this room. That you'll keep everyone here while I try to buy Dad and his deputies time to get you out." 

"Don't die," Scott whispered back. 

"Part of my brilliant but improvised plan," Stiles replied. He looked at Lydia and Jackson. "I know you don't care, but I'm sorry you two got texted to come here." 

"I didn't," Lydia said. 

Stiles filed that information away for later pondering---because Monster Mayhem luring Jackson and not Lydia was beyond bizarre---and looked at Erica and Boyd. 

"Be safe, okay?" Stiles asked. "I'm so sorry you guys are here. If you want me to relinquish my chair at our table---"

"Nah, don't worry about it. Not your fault some guy got out of jail and decided to go after your family," Boyd said. He smiled and shrugged. "But, next time we meet for lunch, you're bringing me extra olives." 

"And more of those cookies you made last week," Erica added. 

Stiles looked at them. He knew his eyes were wide, showing surprise, but he was so impressed with how cool they were being. He didn't think he'd have been so accepting and so brave if he'd been in their shoes; he didn't think he deserved their loyalty and he vowed to do everything he could to be worthy of them if he survived. 

"I… anything. If we get out of here together. Anything," he promised. 

Jackson snorted, but Danny elbowed him. 

"Be safe," Danny said. "I'll do what I can from here." 

"Thanks, Danny," Stiles replied. 

After they shared a nod, Stiles climbed back onto the chair and reached up for the ceiling. He made sure he failed on his first attempt to haul himself up into the crawl space; he wriggled up there with a bit more theatrical flair than was necessary. 

It was dusty and moldy and _so gross_ in the ceiling. He took a moment to make faces in the dark, thoroughly expressing his disgust, and then he shuffled around to look back at his friends and classmates. 

Once he gave them what he hoped was a reassuring smile, he started crawling towards what he believed was the art room.

#####

_John watched as Stiles and Derek finished the last pizza, amazed that they were able to put away so much food in such a little time. He thought back, thinking that his grocery bills hadn't increased too much in size, and he wondered how they were sustaining themselves._

_"Is this a normal thing? Werewolves have a higher metabolism, so you eat more?" John asked._

_Stiles nodded. "Yep. Plus, I'm running more to help with my focus issues, so… I need extra extra calories."_

_"Your medicine doesn't work?" John asked._

_He shook his head. "Nope. And wasn't that fun the first day back at school."_

_Reports from the teachers' conferences made more sense, with that information confirmed. Stiles had a hard enough time filtering the relevant from the irrelevant; John couldn't imagine how enhanced senses and_ no medication _made that task even harder. He understood the running and physical activity---and how it would seem that he was improving at lacrosse---even more._

_"We have higher body temperatures, higher healing factors, and more strength and speed," Derek explained, pulling John from his thoughts. "It requires more energy."_

_"Have you two just been pigging out on piz---oh, all the sandwiches you two keep in the fridge," John said, catching up and piecing recent events with the changes to his reality. "How have you been---"_

_"I've been getting groceries, too," Derek interrupted. "And sometimes, I give Stiles cash to cover them. I didn't want to saddle you with the extra costs of feeding two werewolves. Feeding a teenager can be enough, I'm guessing."_

_John chuckled. "Well. You're not wrong about that. Thanks. Let's put together some sort of grocery plan, though, so we're not taking advantage of anyone involved, all right?"_

_Groceries were something John could handle. He could make a plan for groceries. They could divide up the extra costs by meals, or by ingredient or day or any other unit of measurement. They could put money in a jar, so that anyone can buy food for the house with those funds. It was something he could wrap his head around and negotiate._

_He wasn't quite sure he was ready for the rest of it---but he knew he had to ask more questions._

_"So. The full moon. Is that another myth?"_

_Derek shrugged. "Yes and no."_

_"Well, son, I'm going to need more than that."_

_When Stiles laughed, Derek cracked a full smile. John took a moment---it was always breathtaking, how much younger Derek looked any time his sense of humour leaked through his normally-dour expression---and then he gestured with one hand to prompt Derek into continuing his explanation._

_"It's not like it is in the movies, where the moon comes out from behind the clouds and we turn into mindless beasts," Derek explained. He motioned towards Stiles with a tilt of his head. "In the beginning, it can be hard. We're not two beings, but the only way I can explain it is to say the wolf is_ just _under the surface, ready to break out, like the moon lures it there. When we find an anchor, it's easier. The wolf is still there, ready, but the anchor gives it something to hold onto, I guess."_

_As usual, Derek's answer inspired more questions._

_"Anchor?"_

_"A thought or memory or idea… something that reminds us to stay strong and in control," Derek replied. He waved at Stiles. "He did great on his first full moon. Even before finding his anchor. I didn't know how to handle his first moon---if I'd have to restrain him, I just didn't know---but he… really surprised me."_

_John sent a smile to his son. "What did you two end up doing?"_

_"We played tag for a few hours," Stiles said._

_"In the woods, near my… family's house," Derek added._

_Instead of focusing on that, the location that Derek couldn't seem to escape, John zeroed in on the word "anchor" and what it meant to both of the werewolves in his house._

_Werewolves. In his house._

_He would have said he couldn't---and wouldn't---believe it, but he'd seen them make their faces. That had been irrefutable proof that his life would never be the same again._

_"What's your anchor, Stiles?" he asked._

_Stiles' ears turned a little pink, but he grinned and managed to snark at him when he said, "You, duh. You think I've been going to all the trouble of watching what you eat so I can ditch you when the going gets tough?"_

_John's heart felt like it was melting inside his chest. He wanted to reach out and hug him, but the table was in the way; he had to settle for clapping his hand to Stiles' shoulder for an affectionate squeeze. When he turned back to Derek, John thought he saw a hint of a smile on Derek's face, but it disappeared before he could really see it._

_"What do you use as your an---oh, sorry. That's probably a very personal question," John said, babbling a little when he realized his mistake._

_"It can be, yes," Derek said. He inhaled slowly, his shoulders tightening, and he resumed speaking. "For me, it's always been anger. It was something my uncle taught me."_

_"Is that healthy?" John asked._

_"That's what I said!" Stiles exclaimed._

_Derek rolled his eyes. "It works for me, and that's all that matters," he said._

_John made a mental note to get to the bottom of that. He wanted to know why Derek's uncle would suggest to a child that anger was the way to find control; he wanted to know why Derek had never found anything kinder to use as a focus. He wanted to help Derek---maybe because he felt guilty for not giving him and Laura justice, but also because Derek was helping Stiles and was becoming a part of the Stilinski family whether he wanted to be or not._

#####

Wherever Monster Mayhem was, it wasn't on either side of the music room. He could sense the rogue alpha's rage; the whole school smelled of blood and burnt wood, and Stiles couldn't tell if it was in his mind or in the school. Everywhere he walked, he felt like he could touch the desire to destroy.

He made his way through the school, listening and sniffing, and it wasn't until he got to the locker rooms that he noticed the difference between mental and _real_. 

Blood drips on the floor took Stiles from the locker rooms to the gym. When he stepped into the gym, he saw a mangled body on the bleachers; it was stretched out, as if it had been posed, and the sight of it made him want to throw up everything he ate for at least the last three weeks. He had to turn away from the sight---and he immediately regretted that decision when he saw Monster Mayhem standing underneath the basketball net at the end of the gym. 

On the plus side, the alpha wasn't after everyone in the music room. On the minus side, the alpha was entirely too close to Stiles. 

Monster Mayhem roared before Stiles could figure out what to do. 

The message--- _Kill them all now_ \---came to Stiles on a stream of rage- and revenge-filled images. He saw Kate, meeting with Derek for a private rendezvous and meeting with hunters and arsonists to plan. He saw the fire, he smelled the fire; he heard the screams and sobs of the Hales. He caught a glimpse of someone cramming a small child into a small room; he saw hands pulling at bars on windows. And then he felt pain---so much unyielding, unforgivable pain---that he dropped to his knees and curled up under the sensory gift the alpha was giving him. 

The pain faded but it never went away. He sensed the plan, the intelligence, and the hunger, but the pain was underneath it all. 

He knew, without a shadow of doubt, that Monster Mayhem had survived the fire and that they were hunting those who helped Kate burn the pack. 

He knew that whoever Monster Mayhem was, they were sneaky and adept at gathering information. 

And, he knew what his rite of passage and the price of joining the alpha would be---if he were willing to pay it. 

Derek was right. Monster Mayhem wanted Stiles to kill the people in his life to commit his allegiance to his alpha, and Stiles had guaranteed the arrival of those the alpha couldn't lure to the school. 

Stiles tried to fight it. He thought about his father, and how much he valued John's presence in his life; he remembered the love in their home when Claudia was alive and the love Stiles and John built together after their loss. He lingered on every hug, before and after his being bitten and turned into a werewolf. He cherished the way John rebounded after the news and how he sat down and asked about everything he needed to know to help him and Derek. 

And then, he thought about Derek. He ached for Derek's losses, knowing the pain of grief and being unable to imagine it on that level, and he wanted to help him ease his mourning to a manageable amount. He wanted to help Derek---and not Monster Mayhem---build a pack and the security that could come with a stable support system. He wanted to see Derek laugh easily. Derek had been supportive since Stiles landed in his life, teaching him how to handle his new abilities, and Stiles would never betray him---just like he would never betray his father. 

He thought about Scott. He was mad at him, currently, but they'd been there for each other through the loss of Stiles' mother and the departure of Scott's father. When Stiles' father and Scott's mother were working crazy hours, they kept each other company. They comforted each other through bullying and bad grades and every embarrassing thing that could happen in grade school. They might not see eye to eye at the moment, but there was so much between them that Scott would always have a place in Stiles' heart. 

And then, there were Erica, Boyd, and Danny. They were in danger, but they were still supportive of him. Danny obviously knew Stiles was something _else_ , and he didn't seem to care. Erica and Boyd didn't blame him for the mess of their night. 

He wasn't sure how he felt about Allison, Lydia, and Jackson, but he certainly didn't want them to die. 

Despite that, despite his concern and care for the people in his life and in his heart, the alpha's strength was so strong that he could feel all the love in him drowning in the face of that pain and rage. 

His teeth extended into fangs. His claws emerged from the tips of his fingers. He knew his ears were larger and pointier from the way the world sounded---like more, louder, without control---and he knew his eyes were glowing gold from the way everything looked brighter. 

He was losing his humanity, no matter how hard he tried to hold onto it.

#####

_After a break, so they could wash up, change into more comfortable clothes (or pyjamas), and recover from all the truths they'd laid on John, the three of them made their way into the living room, one at a time._

_John entered the room first, followed by Stiles. When it looked like Derek would be a few more minutes, John reached out and pulled Stiles into his arms for a hug._

_"Dad?"_

_"I know I said this earlier, but I need to say it again. You will always be my son and I will always love you," John said, for his benefit as much as it was for that on his son. "I don't care what you are, who bit you… if you feel the need to wear your fangs around the house, you do it. None of it matters. I accept you."_

_In response, Stiles tucked his face into John's shoulder and shuddered. John closed his eyes and squeezed Stiles even closer; he realised Stiles had needed to hear that as much as he needed to say it._

_"Thanks, Dad," Stiles whispered._

_"Don't thank me for that, it's my job."_

_"Dad."_

_John chuckled. "Let's just agree to appreciate each other, all right?"_

_Stiles nodded. When John tried to disengage from their hug, Stiles' grip tightened a little. John made a quiet, affectionate noise and relaxed back into their embrace._

_"You've been pretty scared, huh?" John asked. "Lots of changes, stuff no health class can prepare you for."_

_Stiles' laugh sounded a little watery. "Yeah, pretty much," he agreed. "I wanted to tell you, and then I didn't, too, because I don't want my new life to get you killed, and---"_

_"There's no guarantee in life, Stiles," John said. "I'm glad I pushed you for the truth. We're going to figure this all out. As family. As… as pack. All right?"_

_Rubbing his face in John's shoulder, Stiles nodded again. "Yeah, okay," he said._

_When they finally pulled apart, ending their father-son moment, John noticed Derek standing in the doorway with a tray of steaming mugs. He smiled and gestured to Derek, welcoming him into the room; Derek hesitated but he eventually pushed himself to walk inside and join them._

_"I made tea," Derek said. "It's too late for coffee, but… I figured tea would be a safe bet."_

_"Thanks, Derek. Just don't think that---"_

_"I don't," he cut in, after he put the tray down on the coffee table. "I wanted to give you two a moment."_

_John nodded, appreciating Derek's gesture, and then he picked up one of the mugs and carried it to his favourite perch in the room. He took his armchair before Stiles and Derek chose seats, but it didn't escape John's notice that they made sure they were in casual contact when they did sit on the sofa._

_"So."_

_Stiles looked up from his tea. "Sew buttons on your coat?"_

_John chuckled; he'd said that to Stiles a few times when he was much younger. He wasn't sure where he wanted to take their conversation; he had so many questions, and he couldn't decide what he wanted to learn first before anything else._

_"I don't think my head has ever been so full of questions," he admitted to them._

_Derek nodded. "I imagine it is a lot to process."_

_After a snort, John nodded, too. "I'm in the middle of a sci-fi movie," he said._

_He curled his free hand around his mug, too, as he thought about what he wanted to ask. A picture of Stiles and Scott, as children, caught his eye; it was wedged between a picture of Stiles with John and Claudia and a picture of Stiles and John. It reminded him of the tension between Scott and Stiles, and the few words Stiles had already shared about the recent difficulties in their friendship._

_"Why didn't you tell Scott?" John asked. "Or did you? Is that why---"_

_Stiles shook his head. "When my senses started going wild, I thought about telling him… but it was crazy, y'know?" he said. "I was afraid he'd tell his mom or you and I'd end up at a shrink."_

_"And then?"_

_"And then we had our first full moon, and Allison's dad---I didn't know who he was at the time---shot me with an arrow---"_

_With his tea nearly sloshing over onto his hand, John was standing before he realised he'd moved. "He did what?!" he demanded._

_Stiles shrugged sheepishly. "Uh, yeah. That happened. After all the tag playing. But Derek got us out of there," he said. He raised his arm, pushing up the sleeve of his t-shirt. "See? Not even a scar!"_

_"You could've died!" John exclaimed. "Stiles, son, you have to promise me you're going to survive this. I couldn't handle it if---"_

_"Sir, I will do my best to make sure he stays alive," Derek interrupted._

_John assumed Derek meant that to be reassuring. It might have been, if they were only dealing with Derek and Stiles getting a little furrier on full moon nights. But there were hunters running around Beacon Hills, and they had already fired arrows at his son---and managed to hit him! They shot an arrow_ into _his son!_

_"Dad?" Stiles said, his voice soft and almost pleading in its tone. "I'm okay. I am going to do my best to stay okay."_

_"We have to keep training," Derek said. He nudged Stiles' arm with his elbow. "You up for that?"_

_"You think?" Stiles asked. "I mean, with everything---"_

_"You will take time from your investigating to work on becoming the best werewolf you can be," John said. His statement registered with his ears at about the same time Stiles realised what he said; they shared a little laugh. John wiped a hand over his mouth and jaw. "Never thought I'd say that," he said, smiling at Stiles and Derek. "So. Training. What's involved?"_

_"I've been trying to teach him how to spar," Derek replied. "And we've been doing a bit of scent tracking."_

_"You fight?" John asked._

_"Not… formally," Derek admitted. "Dad taught us a bit. Jeremy and Clay---his son---taught me a little more when I was willing to learn."_

_While it had been a few years since John had pulled out his boxing gloves and let out his frustrations on the punching bag in the basement, he tried to join some of his deputies at the local gym at least once a week. He was more of an administrator, but he didn't like the idea of letting his strength wane. He was sure that there were fighting skills Derek could teach Stiles---because Derek knew better than John about the strengths and weaknesses of werewolves---but he was also sure that both Derek and Stiles needed some sort of formal training technique._

_John nodded. "Good… good. There's a punching bag downstairs, if you need it," he offered._

_"There is?" Stiles asked._

_He nodded again. "Used it to blow off steam," he admitted. "I'll go down later in the week and make sure it isn't falling apart."_

_And if he looked into the local gyms to see if any of them were offering classes they could both attend, too, then he could tell them about that when he found some useful information. They already had enough on their plates._

#####

"Stiles! Stiles!"

Stiles snarled and threw himself at the door. He bounced off of it in a flash of weird light, colliding with a warm, solid wall. 

"Stay back! Wait until he's more aware," that wall said. 

He struggled, but arms wrapped around him and dragged him to the ground. He snarled again, driven by the power all around him; he tried to roar, but someone's hand covered his mouth.

"Stiles, I need you to listen. I know you're in there. Your pack is here and your friends are in that room. You don't want to hurt any of us. This is Monster Mayhem, trying to separate you, trying to take your power for themselves. I can feel it. But, I'm here and your dad's here and you can lean on us and take strength from us. We are your pack." 

The wall was _Derek_. 

The rage and pain from the alpha faded---only a little amount, but it was less. He inhaled through his nose and it receded a little more. 

Pack was Derek and John. 

Friends were inside, beyond the mountain ash barrier. They might be pack, too. 

Monster Mayhem was not pack. 

He groaned as he dragged against Derek, who quickly released his mouth. His senses could hear heartbeats---Derek's and John's were slowing, the others' were still fast. Beyond the heartbeats, he could hear sirens. 

He couldn't feel the alpha in the building anymore. 

"Did I hurt anyone?" Stiles asked. 

"No, no, they're all still inside as far as we can tell," John said. 

As soon as Derek's grip loosened, Stiles fell forward with his arms open. John caught him in a fierce hug; Stiles tucked his face into John's shoulder and breathed in the scent of family. Under the scent of stress and the faint trace of burger grease (which he would definitely be discussing with John at a less fraught time), he could smell their house and John's aftershave and all the little things that reminded Stiles of his anchor. 

"You're okay," John murmured. 

"I… the others---"

"The alpha's not here anymore, we can take a minute," Derek interrupted. "I'll take you out to the car when you're ready." 

Stiles nodded, rubbing his face in John's shoulder. In response, John cupped the back of Stiles' head in one of his steady, strong hands. Stiles stayed like that, with his father and his anchor, until he felt the last traces of Monster Mayhem's rage fade away into the warmth of Stiles' reality. 

"He was so strong," Stiles muttered. 

"He?" Derek asked. 

Stiles gave them another nod. He lifted his head and craned his neck to look at Derek. 

"It was like I could see things," he said. "The alpha… I didn't know it could be like that." 

"It can be."

Stiles sighed. "He feels like a he. And his hands looked male, when I saw things. The fire… he was in so much pain. He's definitely after the people who did it." 

John squeezed his hand into Stiles' back. "How about we get you two to the car now," he suggested. "I parked around the gym, the other deputies are by the broken door and are searching the grounds." 

"There's a body in the gym," Stiles said. 

"We came in that way. There's no body," Derek commented. 

"There was a dead guy on the bleachers." 

"I smelled blood but we didn't see anything," Derek said. 

Stiles frowned. The body hadn't been a hallucination. He'd played some gruesome games and watched some hideous movies, but he couldn't have hallucinated that level of gore on his own. He hadn't been under Monster Mayhem's thrall at that point, as far as he knew, and his sight had been only through his eyes. 

"C'mon," John urged. "It's time to go." 

"You'll be safe?" Stiles asked. 

John nodded. 

Derek reached out and put his hand on Stiles' shoulder. "They're safer without us here," he said. "Now we know his plan for you." 

Stiles wasn't sure Derek was right, but it made sense. He didn't need to strain to hear the sirens or deputies; there were more people in the school than a group of mismatched teenagers and there was no revenge-driven werewolf in reach of his senses. 

He allowed Derek and John to help him to his feet. When he felt sure of his balance and stability, he nodded at Derek; they set off down the corridor together, not talking but arms and shoulders brushing. They moved stealthily, dodging deputies on their way to the car Derek and John took to the school. 

"You sit in the front, I'll get in the back," Derek said. "That way, I can hide if your friends come out this way." 

"I… can I sit in the back with you?" Stiles asked. "You can still hide---even though I hate that you have to---but I feel like I'm going to vibrate out of my skin and---"

"Sure," Derek interrupted. 

He opened the door to the back seat and climbed inside. Staying low, he reclined on his side; there was enough room, though, despite Derek's size, for Stiles to slouch against Derek and stay on the seat. 

"Okay?" Derek asked. 

Stiles nodded. "Better. Thanks. Sorry if I'm squishing you." 

"I'm fine," Derek assured him. "I get it. When something happens, you need grounding." 

"Yeah," Stiles agreed. 

"You didn't hurt anyone." 

Stiles nodded. "Yeah," he repeated. 

As if he understood that Stiles needed a few minutes to gather his thoughts, Derek fell silent. His presence helped; he was the strength Stiles felt he'd lacked that night. 

They sat together, silent and nearly unmoving, until they heard footsteps and conversation coming towards the exit. John had taken everyone through to the gym; Stiles didn't understand why until he saw an ambulance and the Argents' vehicle rounding the corner of the gym and ending up about a hundred feet away from John's patrol car. 

"Argents," Stiles muttered. 

"Makes sense," Derek whispered as he pressed back into the bench seat even more. "They probably have a police scanner---"

"Or Allison called---"

"Or your dad called them," Derek finished. 

"Yeah, that sounds like the responsible Sheriff-y thing to do," Stiles agreed. 

He tried to keep to the shadows cast by the security lighting as he turned his head and watched Allison emerge from the gym and hurry towards her father. He watched Scott leave the group and walk towards the Argent family reunion. John sent the others to the ambulance---Stiles caught John's gently-worded order to check with the paramedics for signs of shock or injury---and then he fetched Allison and Scott for similar treatment. Everyone seemed fine, but Stiles was glad John was making sure they were checked by people with actual medical knowledge. 

Deputies rounded the school, reporting to John that they didn't find any signs of foul play apart from the outer doors and a broken window. John asked the teenagers about the text messages they received. Everyone but Jackson and Lydia showed him their devices and John made a point to check the number matched Stiles' number. 

_"What was your son doing luring these kids here?"_

Stiles heard Chris Argent's question and sighed. "Here we go," he muttered. 

John's defense--- _"He was lured here by a message from Scott, Mister Argent, so I don't think this can be placed on Stiles' shoulders"_ \---almost made Stiles breathe a sigh of relief. Something about the scene was off, though, and his brain was stuck on the cellular phones in everyone's hands… 

But Lydia and Jackson didn't have their phones in their hands. Stiles had assumed that, when Lydia said she hadn't been texted, it had been Jackson. But Jackson wasn't giving John his text history like the others had.

"I told him what you texted me," Derek said. 

"Huh?" 

"About Scott texting you," he explained. His hand nudged Stiles' knee. "What are you thinking?" 

Stiles bowed his head towards the group and the ambulance. "Lydia and Jackson didn't get texts. Lydia told me she didn't get a text from me, so I assumed Jackson did. Like maybe he shoved me today and Monster Mayhem smelled him on me, I guess," he said. "But Jackson didn't show Dad his text message from me. It could be that he's a cagey asshole. But, what if he didn't get a text?"

"How would he have shown up?" Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged. "Danny, maybe? But…" 

"Didn't come up?" 

He shook his head. "No…"

"Could just be as simple as Danny told him he had to go to the school for a minute," Derek said. "Could be nothing." 

"Could be a clue," Stiles argued. 

Derek snorted. "It's like everything _could_ be a clue," he said. 

Stiles sighed. "Yeah." 

"What else happened?" Derek asked. 

As Stiles watched the group, he recounted some of what happened. He included his surprise that everyone had shown up when he'd allegedly texted them, and his surprise at who Monster Mayhem had included in the group he thought Stiles considered to be his pack. He talked about Danny's quick thinking---in choosing the music room---and about the mountain ash he kept in his bag. He described crawling in the ceiling until he could get into the next classroom. 

His dealings with Monster Mayhem were difficult to describe. So much of it had been in his head---the memories and sensory pictures, and how they combined into a very clear message of death and destruction---that it was hard for Stiles to find the words he needed to help Derek understand what had happened. But, between his descriptions and answers to Derek's questions, he thought he described enough for Derek to understand. 

They fell silent, once Stiles finished talking. Stiles turned his attention back to the group. Lydia and Jackson were leaving; Jackson was shouting to Danny, but Danny was standing with Erica and Boyd in front of John. Scott and Allison were being herded away by Chris. 

_"Is Stiles okay?"_

Danny kept surprising Stiles. Erica's nodding and Boyd's shifting of his weight also surprised him. 

Stiles watched as John smiled. _"He is really shaken, but I think he's eventually going to be fine,"_ he told them. _"I'll let him know you asked after him."_

"They're good people," Derek whispered. 

"Yeah. Scariest night ever, and they're worried about me---when it's my fault they were all there," Stiles muttered. 

"They don't know that." 

Stiles frowned. "I think Danny does. He is… way too aware of things. Werewolf things." 

"Don't worry about that yet---or about Scott," Derek advised. "Right now, he's upset---" 

"He kept trying to blame you."

Derek huffed. He seemed amused. "That sounds about right," he whispered. 

Stiles turned his head and watched Scott get into the backseat after closing the passenger side door for Allison. Chris was talking to them---about what happened, probing for information he could use to hunt the alpha---but Stiles didn't care that much. He knew he would later, because he couldn't let the Argents hurt or kill Derek, but he just watched his best friend walk away without checking on him. Three near-strangers checked on him, through John, but Scott couldn't be bothered. 

It stung more than he wanted to admit. 

He held it together until Chris drove the trio away from the school, and then he buried his face in his hands. 

Derek kept his hands on Stiles. When the last car in that area pulled away, following behind the ambulance, he sat up and wrapped his arms around Stiles' shoulders. 

"It's… okay," Derek whispered. 

"It's really not," Stiles argued. 

"No, but you survived and no one got hurt," Derek reminded him. "That's the important thing to focus on right now. Scott's trying to figure out what's happening, what's making you different. When he realises you're still his best friend, he'll come around." 

"He's so angry at me," Stiles whispered. "I'm never available when Allison's too busy for him. I've been spending time with other people. He sees you like you're an enemy. I just… I don't know what to do." 

"He'll… he'll remember you're his best friend," Derek said. "If he doesn't, it's his loss. He has a friend who faced a crazed alpha to try to protect him. That's… badass." 

"Y'think?" 

"Yeah. Dumb, too, though," Derek replied.

Stiles snorted and lifted his head. He wiped his eyes. "Yeah, definitely dumb," Stiles agreed. He pressed into Derek's hug, letting his weight lean into the larger and more solid body. "I was scared," he added in a whisper. 

"I would've been, too," Derek whispered back. 

Stiles found those words comforting. Derek was easily fifty times tougher than Stiles---and he found the alpha to be scary. It was easier to live with the fear he'd felt, knowing Derek would have felt similarly about looking for Monster Mayhem.

#####

_"All right," John said, his mind full of information about all the things they'd all need to tackle or learn but bothered by the mystery they had to solve. "Now. Give me everything you can on who you think this---do I have to call them Monster Mayhem?"_

_"Yes!" Stiles insisted. Then, he smirked. "You could call them Bad Wolf if you prefer."_

_Derek snorted. "Doctor Who?"_

_Stiles' smile turned into a wide grin as he turned to look at Derek. "You_ are _a nerd under all that 'grr' and gloom! I knew it!" he exclaimed. "As soon as we've got some time to chill, we are marathoning Who. Or all the Batmans. Or something."_

_Before Derek could respond, in what John was sure would be a very dry negatory tone accompanied by an eye roll, John cleared his throat._

_"Focus, both of you," he instructed. "I am approaching overload and I want to have all the necessary information before I go upstairs and percolate."_

_"Oh. I thought that sound was you snoring," Stiles muttered._

_When John raised an eyebrow, Stiles grinned sweetly. John snorted and turned his attention to Derek; in response, Derek raised both of his eyebrows._

_"Start at the beginning?" he asked._

_John nodded. "Please. You and Laura were with… Jeremy. And his pack," he prompted._

_"In New York, yes," Derek said. He shrugged. "No hunters caught up to us there---as far as we know---but then Laura told me she found information of unusual activity here, and she wanted to go investigate. I tried to stop her---we were chased out of town after the fire, for, uh, frak's sake---"_

_"Oh my god, you are a nerd. So glad you are my pack," Stiles interrupted as he leaned into Derek's side._

_"---but she was concerned. She was afraid another pack was going to move in and cause problems, bringing hunters back… or that it was an omega, or lone wolf, who would do more harm to the balance in Beacon Hills," Derek said. As he'd spoken, he shifted so his weight was pressed into Stiles a bit more, too. He sighed and shrugged. "Clay drove her to the airport. She stayed in touch for… for a few days. And then, radio silence."_

_"So you came back," John said._

_"I was too late," Derek said, bowing his head. "I arrived, found the car---I have no idea why she bought a car---and you and your deputies were leaving the woods."_

_John frowned. "Do you know what convinced her to come back?"_

_"We think so," Derek replied._

_After a nudge from Derek, Stiles pulled a piece of folded paper from his back pocket. "Derek said this was put on his car today," Stiles explained as he passed the paper to John. "We went to ask Deaton about it today."_

_John decided to hold off on his questions about their conversation with Deaton until they reached that part of the timeline. He wanted to know what Laura had known, though, so he took the paper and unfolded it. He remembered that deer; he'd been concerned about the carving, when he'd seen the ranger's report, but it hadn't earned more than a brief note in his day planner. It had come on a day where he'd had two alleged domestic disputes, one involving a father and his son, and a small drugs bust. He'd had plenty on his plate that day._

_"Does the spiral mean something… werewolf-y?"_

_Derek nodded. He remained silent until John raised his eyebrows, and then he said, "Revenge, sir, usually."_

_"There's one of these in an old distillery," John commented. "Your pack?"_

_"Another. From… when they came to talk with Mom," Derek said._

_"So, all this now… you think it's revenge for something," John said, setting the paper down on the coffee table. "The fire?"_

_"It's the only event I know of," Derek replied. "There could be something else, but something big usually leaves…"_

_"Evidence."_

_Derek nodded._

_"All right. So. You're here now. You found Laura. Did you know Stiles had been attacked?" John asked._

_"When I found Laura---her remains, I mean---all I could smell on her was the wolfsbane and gunpowder from the hunters who cut her in half," Derek muttered. Emotion was so thick in his voice that even John thought he could taste it. Derek looked up and glanced at Stiles before he turned his attention back to John. "I could smell Monster Mayhem, and I did notice the blood, but I had no idea who it was until later."_

_"Was it… Kate? Who did that to Laura?" John asked._

_Before Derek could say anything, Stiles adjusted his position so he was almost curled around Derek. John's first impulse was to break them up---it was hardly appropriate for them to be_ cuddling _\---but he abstained from saying anything because the more he watched them the more it looked like comfort than anything untoward. Stiles had always been tactile as a child, seeking comfort through proximity and a steadying touch; as prickly as Derek seemed to be, contact with Stiles seemed to keep him calm._

_John wondered if it were a werewolf thing. Animals relied on contact, at times. Did werewolves, too?_

_There was so much he didn't know._

_"Kate didn't arrive until… recently," Derek said. He shrugged. "It could have been one of the Argents. It could have been one of their subordinates. All I know is I smelled what I recognise as 'hunter.'"_

_John nodded and turned to Stiles. "And, back to you, now. At this point, you'd been bitten, you snuck back home before I got home, and you… went to bed?"_

_"Uh, no. I knew I had been bitten by something not normal and spent most of the night deep diving into the internet's weird places, trying to figure out what the hell happened."_

_John snorted. That sounded like something Stiles would do. He smiled and asked, "Did you land on werewolf?"_

_"It was one of my possibilities," Stiles admitted. "When Derek found me after I woke up in the woods, I…"_

_"He was pretty accepting of the truth," Derek said. "And full of questions."_

_John smiled and nodded. "I think his first words were a question, actually," he joked. "The day he doesn't ask 'why' or 'how' at least once, each, I'll know the world is ending."_

_"Hey!" Stiles protested._

_"It's true, son, might as well own it," John said. He leaned forward and put his mug down onto the coffee table. "All right. So you two connected. You had your full moon, ran from hunters, started training---"_

_"And Scott started spying on us, together and apart," Stiles interjected._

_"And then Garrison Myers was attacked," Derek added._

_"We were together when it happened," Stiles said. "Monster Mayhem tried to get me there, with his weird psychic alpha mojo, but Derek helped keep me from losing it."_

_John nodded, sparing a smile for Derek, and then he asked, "What happened next?"_

_"Some Scott stuff, some Argent stuff---"_

_"I know the Scott stuff, more or less, but what happened with… which Argent?"_

_"Chris confronted me at a gas station," Derek admitted. "He meant it as a warning."_

_"I have the footage upstairs," Stiles said. "He and his goons dinged up Derek's---Laura's---car."_

_"And how did you obtain that video?" John asked._

_"I traded it for one of my Batman comics."_

_John tried not to smile---and failed. "Of course you did," he murmured. "Smart thinking, son. It's not exactly official evidence, but---"_

_"It's better than nothing!" Stiles exclaimed. "If anything happens, it shows previous… whatever. You know. You do this professionally."_

_"Patterns of behaviour," John agreed. "Okay. What's next?"_

_"We realised the Instagram account I'd found in my internet spelunking was Kate's, and that she was driving into Beacon Hills," Stiles replied. "And then, I did my digging on her… finding shady connections to her teaching jobs and areas where awfulness happened."_

_John pulled out his notebook for that. When he requested dates and locations, Stiles rattled off dates of employment and the date of two odd deaths in Fresno, as well as dates of employment in Meridian and a series of heartbreaking events during and after that period. John jotted it all down in his shorthand, frowning as he put together what prompted Derek to tell Stiles the truth about his own past._

_"Derek… did you know this Jacob Lindon?"_

_Derek's brow furrowed. "I met him once when I was ten. His mother is the alpha of that pack," he said._

_"Would she be willing to talk to us?" John asked._

_"Maybe. I don't know. I don't… it might not be wise," he said. "If she knows we know who hurt her son, if she knows that person is here… I mean, if she were human, what do you think she'd do?"_

_"Anything to help?" John suggested._

_"Well. I don't know what my mother would have done, but we're so used to operating outside the law… it wouldn't surprise me if Eleanor comes here herself to try to get revenge."_

_"Your mother would have done anything in her power to protect you," John said. "I remember her. From what I'd seen of her, she was… a force to be reckoned with."_

_"Add claws, fangs, and the power of a large pack to the equation, then," Derek suggested. John nodded, conceding the point and understanding that Beacon Hills didn't need another alpha running around on a mission of bloody retribution. Derek shrugged. "If we resolve this… Bad Wolf situation, maybe we can reach out to her. Carefully."_

_"Okay. I'll hold off on contacting her, for now," John agreed. "What's next?"_

_"Monster Mayhem tried getting Kate, Kate shot Derek with a wolfsbane bullet, and I broke into the Argent stronghold---like a badass---to get another bullet so Derek didn't die."_

_John stared at Stiles. Behind Stiles, Derek brought his free hand up to cover his face. Stiles looked from John to Derek and back again, eyebrows raised._

_"What?" Stiles asked._

_"I… I don't even know where to begin," John breathed._

_Derek snorted into his hand._

_"No one died! No one got caught! I was careful! And Derek---" Stiles gestured to his side "---is still perfectly healthy with two good legs!"_

_"How… Stiles, you can't just---"_

_"I waited until no one was home!" Stiles interrupted. "And, yes, okay, Scott and Allison showing up after school was a bit of a problem, but I wasn't seen. I didn't wear anything I usually wear. Plus, I had gloves on the whole time. I wasn't going to let Derek die!"_

_John groaned. "Stiles, you cannot commit crimes and then admit to me---the Sheriff---that you committed them."_

_"It was for the greater good! And, y'know, now that we're being honest… I don't want to lie to you about the little stuff."_

_The fact that Stiles thought breaking and entering---and stealing---was little stuff was just barely overshadowed by the emphasis Stiles put on the truth and his desire that they maintain that truth._

_John nodded. "I appreciate that. And I'd like us to stay honest---all three of us," he said, letting his gaze drift to Derek before returning to Stiles. "I understand that the law doesn't allow for werewolf emergencies. Going forward, though, how about we keep criminal activity to a minimum?"_

_"Uh, Dad… Monster Mayhem---"_

_"I know," John interrupted. "I'm not blind to the danger---or to the sense of responsibility Derek must feel to get Laura's power back from the… Bad Wolf. But. Sneaking into a hunter's home? No more of that. If at all possible. Please."_

_"So, no waiting until they're all gone out to try to break into their locker and armed basement to figure out what they're hiding in there?"_

_John felt his eyebrows move up towards his hairline. "No, Stiles," he replied. "None of that."_

_"It's probably where they keep their hunting resources," Derek said._

_"More weapons?" Stiles asked._

_"Books and maps, maybe some cages and shackles," Derek replied. "It's not always werewolves and they don't just kill."_

_"Ah. Okay. Well. I can't lie, I'd love to get my hands on those books, but I could do without the torture," Stiles said._

_"Torture?" John asked._

_"They don't ask a beta nicely when they want information about the pack or the alpha," Derek said. He sighed and shifted against Stiles, who was still all but lounging on top of him. "Peter used to tell us stories. I have no idea what's true and what was added for dramatic effect."_

_John frowned. The more he heard, the more his fear of the hunters increased. The idea of the revenge of the bloodthirsty werewolf was awful; the idea that a family who had a torture room in their house lived in his town made his stomach roil._

_As he thought about the Argents and everything Stiles and Derek told him, something didn't make sense._

_"Derek, you said one of them… cut Laura in two," John said._

_"Yes."_

_"She was already dead," John continued. "Were they assuming there's a pack in town? Was she a message to the alpha?"_

_Stiles squeezed his arms around Derek's shoulders and torso, turning his head to look at John. "We think she was bait---for one of us, but probably for Derek," he said. "She's his pack. They might not have known she'd been his alpha, that they were a pack of two. Slicing her like that? A clear sign that hunters were involved."_

_"To provoke Derek---or another beta---to go straight for them, and then they could… use whoever they caught to gather information on the alpha. Or lure the alpha into a trap," John said as he put the pieces together._

_If he thought Derek would accept the gesture, he would have gotten up and given Derek a hug._

_After a long, slow breath, John decided to move the conversation back to the calendar of events he'd missed while oblivious._

_"Were there any lasting effects to being shot, Derek?" he asked._

_Derek shook his head. "No, sir. My leg is fine."_

_"Good… good. Is the poison also a cure?"_

_"Wolfsbane needs to be burned," Derek explained. "If you have the exact same strain, you can burn it and press it into the wound to counteract the poison. If that's not possible, we can burn it out with fire---but it's the less desirable course of action. Burns don't always heal."_

_John filed that information away, into the back of his mind where he'd pushed the rest of his werewolf information, and returned to the progression of events that ended that evening with John's confrontation in the kitchen. As much as he tried, he knew he wouldn't retain everything on the first try. Both Stiles and Derek would end up explaining the finer points of being a werewolf to him several times, he was sure._

_"Okay. Then, there was the actual mountain lion," John said._

_"After Deaton got a look at the animal Allison's dad shot, I went over to try to use my super-sniffer to see if the cat was a deliberate red herring," Stiles said. "Deaton knew I'm a werewolf. He knows stuff. The counters in the lobby are all mountain ash. He basically coached me through sifting through the scents on the body. Also, he said it looked like the mountain lion had been chased by a larger predator."_

_After a heavy sigh---because how could he ever do his job effectively without all the important information---he said, "And then I showed up with those video captures of… Monster Mayhem."_

_"Yep."_

_"Some of what Doctor Deaton said makes more sense now," John admitted. "But, I don't know if he was helping or obfuscating."_

_"Probably a little bit of both," Stiles said. "Oh, and I deleted video of Monster Mayhem that Lydia had on her phone. I have a copy of it. But I deleted it from her device."_

_"You broke into---"_

_"Oh, no. Her mother let me in to see Lydia. I knocked and everything," Stiles interrupted._

_John nodded and relaxed back into his chair. That was better than he'd expected, given Stiles' recent activities. He didn't want the werewolf secret getting out, luring hunters and, hell, scientists and anyone else who would try to profit from the science of what was supposed to be a fairy tale. Lydia Martin was a smart girl---she had to be to catch Stiles' attention---and he could imagine her trying to figure out what was on the video..._

_There were so many things to worry about, John didn't know where to focus his attention._

_"And then what?" John asked._

_"Kate has been by the Hale House, looking for Derek," Stiles said._

_"And I went to see Peter," Derek added. "He doesn't seem to be any better, except the burns aren't raw wounds anymore. When I left the hospital, that print-out about the deer was under my wiper."_

_"We went to see Deaton together, and he was very cryptic---and very concerned about balance," Stiles finished._

_"So. Derek, you are staying in town where people can see you or you are here at the house," John said. "I know I'm not the boss of you, but if Kate is trying to hurt you or stir you up---"_

_"Witnesses," Stiles interrupted, nodding._

_"Exactly."_

_Derek frowned. "I don't want to lead her here," he said._

_"I appreciate that, but we are stronger together---and that goes for you, too," John insisted. "And, when you are in public, be careful. Someone was close to you and they left you a clue… but we don't know if they're a friend or foe."_

_"It was someone at the hospital, it had to be," Stiles said._

_John understood why Stiles believed that, but he couldn't rule out the possibility that someone had been following Derek and used his trip to the hospital as an opportunity._

_"And Peter… is still a werewolf," John said, seeking confirmation. "And still fairly non-responsive."_

_"Yes," Derek said._

_"So, it's someone else."_

_"I don't think it's that simple," Stiles said. "First, these victims aren't random. It's not a soccer mom one day and a drug dealer the next. Myers was an arson investigator. The video store guy had a record. Kate is… a murderer with serious psychological issues."_

_"And second?" Derek asked._

_"Second, werewolves!" Stiles exclaimed. "I have so many impulses and instincts now, and half of them run on autopilot! He might not be aware of his wolfy time. Or! Maybe he is and this is all an elaborate ruse to act as an alibi."_

_"He wouldn't kill Laura," Derek said. "You don't know him. He wouldn't."_

_"You told me a story where he convinced some alpha to bite a teenager---"_

_"Not his niece," Derek interrupted._

_"Deaton said---"_

_"I am not going to do something I'll regret on the words of that man's cryptic bullsh---"_

_"Boys, boys," John said, as Derek and Stiles started to get louder. They both stopped and looked at him. "What did Doctor Deaton say to you?"_

_Derek huffed out a loud breath. "Something ridiculous about balance," he said._

_"And something about how if Derek is Talia's son, he'll come to the correct conclusion after some serious contemplation," Stiles added._

_John frowned. He didn't have Doctor Deaton's exact words, but Stiles' paraphrased account certainly made it sound like it was a member of the Hale family they needed to find and stop._

_"Was there ever anyone in your family who disagreed with your mother? Frequently?" John asked._

_"Peter, but---"_

_"About small things, like pulp in orange juice, or… bigger things?" Stiles asked._

_"Bigger things, all the time. About expanding our territory and becoming stronger, mainly. He thought we should have more, and Mom said Beacon Hills was more than a name and that we'd have more than enough trouble if we weren't careful, but… it can't be Peter."_

_"What if we watch him?" Stiles asked. "For a few days. Just to be sure nothing weird is happening at the hospital."_

_Derek's frown deepened. "He'd smell and hear us---if he's aware of anything."_

_"Camera, then."_

_"Yeah. Okay," Derek agreed. "And when that proves it's not him, will you drop this crazy idea and help me find the alpha?"_

_"I promise," Stiles vowed._

_John scribbled down a couple broken sentences in his notebook---to remind him to ask Melissa if anything weird had been happening at the hospital, and to look into Peter Hale as a person of interest. He saw his notes about Kate and spent a few minutes studying them; he was missing information and he wanted to fill as many holes as he could._

_"All right. Now. I have a few more questions about Kate and her family," he announced. He looked at Derek. "Are you okay with that?"_

_Derek nodded. "Sure. Is this… official?"_

_"No, not yet. I'd like to put together what I can, and then figure out a way to reopen the case that doesn't require the words 'hunter' and 'werewolf' to be mentioned," John said. He shrugged. "Right now, I'm trying to make sense of how much of now is tied up in back then."_

_After another nod, Derek said, "What do you want to know?"_

_"Was there anyone you noticed she spent time with?" John asked. "A friend she met for coffee? A teacher who drove her home?"_

_"Victoria, her sister-in-law," Derek said. "And there was a guy. I think he was a teacher, too. Might've been Harris… tall, thin, glasses? Military-rigid posture?"_

_"Right! She called him!" Stiles exclaimed. "I heard that when I was… um, near their house."_

_John snorted, but he jotted that information down on the next blank page of his notebook. When he finished, he looked back at Derek. "Was there… does she have any identifiable tattoos or piercings? Anything I can use as an identifying feature if I get around to talking to potential witnesses."_

_"She used to wear a necklace… it had a large pendant on it," Derek said. "Silver. Old. She wore it flipped around, but I still noticed there was a wolf on it. She told me it had been her grandmother's."_

_John wrote that down, too. When he looked up, Stiles had his phone out._

_"This necklace?" Stiles asked, showing the screen to Derek. At Derek's nod, Stiles passed the phone to John. "Kate gave it to Allison. Recently. And tipped her off to some story… the beast of…"_

_John looked at the screen. The pendant was pretty, in that charming way antiques could be pretty; he thought it was a little obvious for a hunter to be wearing something like that, but he'd never been a fan of flashy jewelry._

_"Gévaudan?" Derek asked._

_"Yes! The first werewolf?"_

_John looked up as Derek shook his head. "No, just the first that an Argent ever killed," he said. He sighed. "Kate must be trying to prepare Allison."_

_"She doesn't smell like as much wolfsbane as Kate and Chris," Stiles said._

_"She isn't a hunter yet," Derek reminded him._

_"Yet?" Stiles asked._

_"I've never heard of someone leaving the family business," Derek said. "Victoria and Chris will start training her soon if Kate doesn't accelerate the issue."_

_As much as John disliked that Stiles was dropped into the werewolf world, he couldn't imagine introducing Stiles to hunting and killing werewolves. He didn't understand what would convince Chris Argent, or any father, that it was perfectly fine to hand his child of sixteen or seventeen years of age a weapon and show them the finer points of killing a human being. He supposed the hunters saw werewolves as monsters, clearing up any conflicted feelings on the matter, but after spending time with Derek he could see that werewolves were still people. Stiles was still his son. His glowing eyes, fangs, and pointy ears didn't change that fact. Yet, soon, Kate and Chris and Victoria would be teaching Allison to kill people like Stiles and Derek._

_If he did anything worthwhile in the next few weeks, he would be looking into all the ways he could keep the Argents away from his family._

_John looked at Stiles, still tangled up in Derek, and realised that their family had grown from two people to three._

_"All right," he said, a little dazed under the weight of shared information and his own revelations. "I'm going to bed. I reserve the right to ask more questions tomorrow."_

_"Any time, sir," Derek said. "Anything I can do to help."_

_"I appreciate that," John said. "I can't imagine it's easy to share secrets."_

_"You're Stiles' pack," Derek replied with a little shrug._

_"And Derek doesn't want to get rid of me, ever, because I'm awesome," Stiles declared as he adjusted his grip on Derek and pulled him into a bear hug, complete with---adorable---growling._

_John smiled, fighting against the urge to laugh, and met Derek's eyes. Derek's lips twitched into what John was sure would have been a smile if he hadn't been trying to tease Stiles a little. Undaunted by Derek's silence, Stiles nuzzled playfully and squeezed his arms even more tightly._

_"C'mon… admit it…"_

_"And then you'll stop trying to squeeze the life out of me?" Derek asked._

_"Maybe. For now. Hugs are an integral part of my love and I like to share that love," Stiles replied._

_"I should go see what Monster Mayhem's policy on hugs is," Derek shot back. "If they say 'no' to hugs, I might switch---"_

_"Noooo!" Stiles whined, wrapping his legs around Derek, too. "Why you gotta say something like that? We're a team! You'll get used to the hugs!"_

_John chuckled and waved as he left the room, heading first to the kitchen and then to the stairs so he could go to bed. He could hear Stiles and Derek bickering the whole time, their words playful and light._

_If they could stay close, if they could stay together as a team or pack, maybe they would survive the darkness that was plaguing their community._

#####

After John drove them home, after Stiles showered and changed into clothes that didn't smell of the school or anger or fear, they ended up in the living room. Stiles found himself wedged between John and Derek, but he preferred that to sitting alone; he felt safe with them on either side of him. It was there, in his safe place, that he felt comfortable enough to recount everything that happened.

He talked about the text messages, and how Jackson didn't appear to be there because he'd received one, and he talked about how weird it was that everyone showed up because he allegedly asked them to meet him at the school. He talked about how surprising it was that Erica and Boyd came, after only a few weeks of lunches in the library, and he ranted about Scott's bringing Allison along even though he thought he was meeting Stiles. He recounted all the times Scott blamed Derek for whatever was happening; he recalled who believed Scott and who didn't believe him, continuing to believe Stiles' insinuation that it was someone unknown and perhaps someone who was seeking revenge on the Sheriff by attacking his son and his son's friends. 

Then, at Derek's and John's prompting, Stiles moved on to his recollections of the alpha. He talked about the memories he'd seen when the alpha expressed his pain the only way he could; he talked about all the ways in which he was sure the alpha was male. He told John what he could remember of the body in the gym—which wasn't much, apart from the yuck—but he was sure it was someone from the janitorial or security staff. 

When he was all talked out, he settled back between Derek and John and closed his eyes. John nudged him; he nudged back in silent reply. 

"I'm very glad you're okay," John murmured. 

"Me, too," Stiles whispered. 

"Scott's outside," Derek said, interrupting the moment between father and son. "A car---"

Stiles turned his head slightly. "Argent drove him," he said, as soon as his brain registered what his ears were hearing. "Frak." 

"Language," John halfheartedly scolded. 

Stiles snorted. "Yeah, yeah." 

When Scott knocked on the door, John pushed himself off the sofa. He gestured at Stiles and Derek. "You guys stay here and be quiet," he said. "This is going to be a short conversation." 

Stiles nodded. He was curious; he wondered what Scott wanted to say and he was really curious how John was going to respond. After one look at Derek, taking in his quirked brows, Stiles realised Derek was curious, too. 

John stepped out of the living room and headed to the front door. He opened it and greeted Scott. 

_"Hey, Scott. Are you all right?"_ he asked. 

_"Yeah. Uh. Can I come in?"_

_"I don't think that's a good idea tonight,"_ John said. _"Stiles has been through more than enough already."_

_"I… but, he… he's fine, isn't he?"_ Scott asked. 

As they listened, Derek inched closer and put one of his arms around Stiles' shoulders. Stiles yielded easily, craving the feeling of pack after remembering everything that happened, and he tucked his face into Derek's neck. It should have been intimate---too intimate for friends---but it was more comforting and grounding than anything else. 

When Stiles tuned back into the conversation at the front door, both Scott and John sounded frustrated. 

_"But, it was Derek, so why aren't you---"_

_"No, Scott, it wasn't Mister Hale,"_ John interrupted. _"And you know how I know that? I was with him when I got Stiles' voicemail."_

_"You were?"_ Scott asked. 

_"I was. A while ago, I found out he's been staying at what remains of his family's house,"_ John replied. _"I tried to convince him to stay anywhere else---even a motel would be better."_

Stiles lifted his head. "Smart," he whispered. "Close to the truth." 

"Best way to lie is with the truth," Derek whispered back. 

Stiles agreed with that. He also approved of how John protected Derek's location and provided misdirection for Chris Argent. With that information, he and Kate would probably keep expecting to see Derek out in the woods and not in the Stilinski house. 

John's heavy sigh caught Stiles' attention. _"Scott, son, I know you want someone to blame, and I do, too,"_ he said. _"But, I'm not going to blame someone who isn't responsible for the pain and fear that was caused tonight. And I think you should examine why you keep falsely accusing Mister Hale of crimes."_

_"What do you mean?"_

Stiles wanted to know what John meant, too. He sat up a bit, not completely willing to lose Derek's physical support even though he wanted to stay attentive so he didn't miss John's analysis of their situation. 

_"I can't speak for Stiles, obviously. But, I've watched you two grow up together, Scott, through thick and thin,"_ John said. _"You've always been in sync. But. Lately, it just seems like you two have different priorities… and you might be punishing Stiles for not having the same old priorities, instead of trying to understand what's important to him_ now _like he's done for you."_

"He's not wrong," Stiles whispered.

He received a shoulder squeeze from Derek as a reply. 

_"I'm trying to protect him!"_ Scott insisted. 

_"Then maybe you should think about your actions to date and decide if you're really trying to protect him or if you're just hurting him,"_ John suggested. _"I've never known you to be cruel before, but the last couple months, and tonight, especially… you've surprised me."_

John cleared his throat and continued talking. _"Why don't you let Mister Argent take you home, Scott,"_ he said. _"It's been a long night, and you've been through an ordeal. I'll be in touch if I need more information from you for your statement."_

_"How do I get to keep Stiles?"_ Scott asked, his voice almost as low as a whisper.

_"Try talking with him, and listening to him, maybe,"_ John replied. _"Friendships are a two-way street, y'know?"_

Scott must have nodded, because John said, _"It's going to be okay, Scott. If you two value your friendship, I have faith you'll both work to keep it."_

When he closed the door, Stiles heard him sigh. It took almost a full minute, but he finally returned to the living room. 

"I love that boy, but I do not understand why he hates you, Derek," he commenting, rubbing a hand over the back of his head. "Sorry, Stiles, if I overstepped---"

"No, you were pretty accurate, and way more articulate than I could've been," Stiles interrupted. "I miss him. The real Scott. I'm so sick of smelling his anger. And hearing about---" he broke off and sighed. "I hope we'll work it out." 

John nodded. "I hope so, too." 

Derek cleared his throat. "I… thank you, sir, for saying what you did," he said. "By making it sound like I'm still staying there, you've probably bought me a bit more time before they find me again." 

With a smile, John said, "Son, you've helped protect Stiles---and me, tonight. You don't need to thank me for protecting you in return." 

Stiles grinned. "Aww, my pack is bonding." 

John chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, probably more than either of us are comfortable with, right, Derek?" 

"Probably, yeah," Derek agreed, smirking. 

John gestured towards the stairs. "Why don't you two get out of here and go to bed?" he said. "I imagine you two have things to talk about and probably want to stay close, so pick a room and stay there. I'm going to check in at the station, but I'll only be gone for a couple hours at the most---if you two are okay with that." 

Stiles nodded, for several reasons. He really wanted to pick apart what he'd experienced; he also wanted to hear about Derek's night, and the perspective from the other side of the events at the school. He also knew he needed some time to decompress. Quiet time with Derek, with the other werewolf in his pack, would help with that. 

He wasn't sure how he felt about John leaving the house, but if Derek didn't see a problem with it, he was willing to keep his worries to himself. 

"You'll be careful?" Derek asked. "And call us if anything happens?" 

John nodded. "Of course. My back-up gun is still loaded with the rounds Doctor Deaton taught me to make." 

"Really?" Stiles asked. "When was that?" 

"Yesterday, while you were in school," John replied. "Never got around to telling you." 

"Well… that makes me feel better," Stiles admitted. 

John smiled. "Good. Now, don't stay up all night, and I'll see you in the morning," he said. "Order food if you want, but make sure you get some sleep. If you're still up when I get back…" 

"Demerits?" Stiles asked, grinning. 

"Maybe," John agreed. 

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before John grabbed his jacket and left the house. Minutes passed, and then Derek was herding Stiles out of the living room. 

"Time for bed," he insisted. "Go upstairs, get comfortable, and---" 

"You're coming, too, right?" Stiles interrupted. "I mean, I'm not trying to be clingy or weird, but I don't… want to be alone yet." 

Derek nodded. "I get it. Laura and I practically lived in each other's pockets on our way to Bear Valley," he said. "I was planning on meeting you upstairs. Just want to get changed and brush my teeth." 

Stiles felt a little relief, but it wasn't until he was in bed with Derek sitting next to him that he felt the knot of tension in his gut begin to loosen. 

Monster Mayhem may have been thwarted, but he probably wasn't going to give up on getting Stiles to join him any time soon. There would probably be another confrontation in the next few days. Stiles hadn't been able to resist his influence; if it hadn't been for Derek, John, and Danny, the night might have ended much worse. The next time could be awful. 

"Stop it," Derek murmured. "You're never going to sleep if you keep worrying." 

"I'll crash eventually," he muttered.

Derek slipped down into a reclining position and pulled Stiles close. "You're home, you're safe, and you survived," he said. "You're going to get stronger." 

"I sucked tonight." 

"He's the one who bit you. There's always a connection," Derek responded. "You managed to keep your friends safe, even if you did it with help. Take the win." 

"Ugh, okay, shutting up now," Stiles muttered. 

Derek chuckled. "We'll talk tomorrow," he decided. 

It wasn't what Stiles had planned to do, but the longer he stayed there, in bed and at Derek's side, the more he realised how frayed and worn out he felt. Discussing the events after some sleep sounded good; as drowsiness washed over him, he decided it sounded even better than good.


End file.
